CIHM 

ICIVIH 

Microfiche 

Collection  de 

Series 

microfiches 

(l\Aonagraphs) 

(monographies) 

Canadian  Inatituta  for  Historical  Microraproductiona  /  Inatitut  Canadian  de  microraproductioni  historiques 


1996 


Technicpl  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniquo  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
r^ay  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


0 


D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I     I      Covers  damaged  / 

' — '      Couverture  endommagbe 

I     I      Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restauree  et/ou  pelliculee 

I     I      Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

j     I      Coloured  maps  /  Carles  geographiques  en  couleur 

[PI      Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 

Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

n7|      Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
—      Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

I     I      Bound  with  other  material  / 
' — '      Relie  avec  d'autres  documents 


Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serree  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de 
la  marge  interieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajoutees  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texle,  mais,  kiisque  cela  etait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  et6  filmees. 


L'Institut  a  microfilme  le  meilleur  exampiaire  qu'il  lui  a 
ele  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sont  peut-etre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  meth- 
ode  normalo  de  filmage  sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 

I     I      Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

[     I      Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommagees 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
— '      Pages  restaur^s  et/ou  pellicuiees 

r^      Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
— '      Pages  decolorees,  tachetees  ou  piquees 

I     i      Pages  detached  /  Pages  d^achees 

r~2      Showthrough  /  TransparerKe 

I     I      Quality  of  print  varies  / 

' — '      Qualite  inegale  de  I'impressJon 

I     I      Includes  supplementary  material  / 

Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

I  I  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  ete  filmees 
a  nouveau  de  fapon  a  obtenir  la  meilleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
—  discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  decol- 
orations sont  filmees  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


n 


Additional  comments  / 
Commentaires  supplementaires: 


Thii  ittin  ii  f  ilmad  at  tht  rtduction  ratio  ehaekad  bekmi/ 

Ca  documant  est  filma  au  taux  de  raductlon  indiqua  ci-dtssous. 

lOX  14X  18X 


22X 


2«X 


XX 


7 


Tha  copy  filmad  har*  hit  baan  raproduead  thank* 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  film*  fut  raproduit  grtca  i  la 
gAntrotit*  da: 

Bibliotheque  nationals  du  Canada 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
ponibia  eonaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibillty 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  tpacificationa. 

Original  copiaa  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  filmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
•ion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  imprassion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microf Icha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  ^^  Imsaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  Imsaning  "END"), 
whichavar  applias. 

Mapa,  platas,  cham,  ate,  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
sntiraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  fallowing  diagrama  illustrata  tha 
mathod: 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  ttt  raproduitas  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  I'aiiamplaira  film*,  at  an 
eonformita  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Lsa  axamplairas  originaux  dont  la  eouvartura  »n 
papiar  aat  imprimia  sent  filmis  an  commangant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnitra  paga  qui  eomporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  ia  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  cas,  Tous  las  autras  axamplairas 
originaux  sont  filmto  an  commanqant  par  la 
prami*ra  paga  qui  co-nporta  unc  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darniira  paga  qui  eomporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolas  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  ehaque  microfiche,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symboia  — »  signifia  "A  SUIVRE"   la 
symbols  V  signifia  "FIN", 

Laa  cartas,  planchas,  tablaaux,  ate.  pauvant  ttta 
filmts  i  daa  taux  da  rMuction  difftranis. 
Lorsqua  la  documant  ast  trop  grand  pour  itra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  elich*,  il  ast  film*  t  partir 
da  I'angia  suptriaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  i  droita. 
•t  da  haut  an  bas.  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  nAcassaira.  Las  disgrammas  suivants 
illuatrsnt  la  mMhoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICHOCOTY   RESOLUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0    IS"-  I 


25 


12.2 


1,1   1*^  m 

"""'  1.8 


!:25    III  1.4     mil  1.6 


_^  APPLIED  ItVMGE     In 

^g*.  1653   East   Main  Street 

irJS  Rochester.   New   York         14609        USA 

'.^S  (716)   «a2  -  0300  -  Phor>e 

^^  (716)    288  -  5989  -  Fox 


V 


// 


'  »  ■  1    / 


lCi    / 


/ 


Ilii 


■in; 


I 


The  Story  of 
Quamin 


A  Tale  of  the  Tropics 


May  Harvey  Drummond 


^J^ 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK  AND    LONDON 

Obe  *n{cftctbocliet  pteee 
1911 


1  0  11 


Copyright,  191X 

BY 

MAY   HARVEY  DRUMMOND 


Vbt  ttntckerlwclter  pu$§,  l^ew  Vork 


So 

MV  DEAR   SON 

BARCLAY  DRUMMOND 


"  -"■'!'  ""1" ''  ^  "">'  "  ■>'  ™ver  dere. 
Plamteeofweedlym.Vryw'ere 
But  work  aroun- or  your  life  is  gone 
An  tak'  some  chance  or  you  won't  get  on 
For  ,  you  don't  feesh  w'ere  de  weed  is  grow 
You  -11  only  ketch  leetle  small  wan  or  so '■ 


PREFACE 

|T  has  been  deemed  necessary  to  add  to  this 

'     httle  volume  a  preface  setting  forth  the 

Pomt  of  view  and  intent  with  which  it  was 

wntten,  explaining  unfamiHar  aUusions  and 

answenng  beforehand  questions  as  to  faTth- 

s^^Tn^L'^^r-^"^'^"^^^^^-- 

onlv  tot?  ""'''''  '^'''  "^^'o-^-i 

only  to  the  more  advanced  negro  of  the 

Southern  United  States. 

eth,cal  stafstics  nught  be  compounded,  but 

?Je  ^T'/o"*  "  *°^""^^  didactic,  and 

the  t.1r  '{  ^"'"*"''  '^  "°  ^■^'^^  -»  than 
^e  telhng  o  a  story  and  the  occupation  of  an 

"die  hour     It  was  begun  merely  for  per^n^ 

amusement  the  id^  being  to  sketch.  Laiti^ 

thought  of  preserving  the  folk-lore  of  Jamaica 

(vj 


Preface 


becoming  interwoven  with  this,  an  endeavour 
was  made  to  portray  the  childlike  and  fanci- 
ful imagination  of  the  negro  as  we  find  him  in 
the  country  parts  of  the  island  before  the 
hand  of  civilisation  has  fallen  too  heavily 
upon  him. 

It  is  true  that  this  type  is  passing  and  in 
this  fact  lies  an  excuse  for  wishing  to  pre- 
serve some  record  of  it,  though  no  claim  is 
here  made  of  having  sounded  the  depths  or 
climbed  to  the  heights  of  the  negro  nature. 

Every  country,  every  people  have  a  folk- 
lore more  or  less  foimded  on  andient  super- 
stitions, and  the  blacks  of  Jamaica,  as  well  as 
those  of  the  other  West  Indian  Islands,  still 
believe  to  a  very  large  extent  in  the  super- 
natural, and  obeahism  is  a  power  which  has 
a  tremendous  influence  for  evil  upon  its 
devotees. 

The  term  obeah  is  derived  from  "Obi," 

a  word  used  on  the  East  Coast  of  Africa  to 

denote  witchcraft,  sorcery,  and  fetishism  in 

general.    The  etymology  of  Obi  has  been 

[vi] 


Preface 


traced  to  a  very  antique  source  stretching 
back  mto  Egyptian  mythology;  a  serpent  in 
the  Egyptian  language  was  called  "Ob  "  and 
"Obion"  is  still  the  Egyptian  name  for  that 
reptile.    Moses,  in  the  name  of  God,  forbade 
the  Israelites  ever  to  inquire  of  the  demon 
Ob,      which    is    translated    in    our   Bible 
Charmer."  "Wizard,"  or  "Sorcerer."    The 
Witch  of  Endor  is  called  "  Ob, "  and  "  Oubois  " 
was  the  name  of  the  basilisk  or  royal  serpent, 
emblem  of  the  sun.  and  an  ancient  oracular 
deity  of  Africa. 

Obeahism  in  the  form  of  serpent  worship 
has  been  practised  in  Guinea  and  on  the 
Congo  for  thousands  of  years,  and  from  these 
locahties  it  was  introduced  by  African  slaves 
mto  the  whole  of  the  West  Indian  Islands 
Of  late  years  with  the  progress  of  education 
among  the  negroes,  they  have  become  a  little 
ashamed  of  their  belief  in  obeahism,  but  still 
chng  in  secret  to  the  mysteries  that  long 
generations  have  almost  made  part  of  their 
mstmctive   being,   and   any   one   with    the 
IviiJ 


Preface 


reputation  of  working  obeah  is  looked  on  by 
all  with  the  greatest  fear  and  treated  with 
the  utmost  deference. 

Before  emancipation,  however,  the  prac- 
tice of  obeah  was  rampant  in  all  the  West 
Indian  Islands,  and  ordinances  had  to  be 
framed  to  put  down  and  combat  its  baneful 
influence.  There  were  fe'^  of  the  large  estates 
having  African  slaves  which  had  not  one  or 
two  obeahmen  among  their  number;  they 
were  usually  the  oldest  and  most  crafty  of  the 
blacks,  those  whose  hoary  heads  and  forbid- 
ding aspect,  together  with  some  skill  in  plants 
of  the  medicinal  and  poisonous  species,  quali- 
fied them  for  successful  imposition  on  the 
weak  and  nedulous. 

At  the  present  time  an  obeahman  would 
be  hard  to  distinguish  from  other  blacks,  and 
his  trade  might  be  inferred  only  from  the  fact 
of  his  possessing  a  good  substantial  house  built 
out  of  the  money  obtained  from  his  confid- 
ing countrymen  and  women,  money  given  in 
exchange  for  love  spells  or  poisonous  philtres, 
[viii] 


The  trade  which  these  impostors  carry  on 
is  extremely  lucrative,  and  a  negro  will  not 
hesitate  to  give  an  obeahman  his  last  doUar 
for  a  love  speU.  when  he  would  grudge  a 
shilling  for  legitimate  medicine  to  relieve  a 
painful  sickness. 

The  temple  of  the  obeahman  is  generaUy 
in  a  secluded  soot,  the  time  selected  for  his 
incantations  the  midnight  hour,  and  the 
charm  used  a  strange  mixture  of  heterogeneous 
matter,  such  as  t-gg  sheUs,  fowls'  feet,  fish 
bones,  the  teeth  of  dogs  and  cats,  alligators, 
sharks,  lizards,  etc.;  and,  strange  though  it 
may  seem,  r  any  of  these  obeahmen  are 
regular  church  members  in  good  standing, 
showing  what  complex,  contradictory  ideas' 
the  negro  often  possesses. 

When  obeah  is  set  for  a  suspected  thief, 
the  magic  charm  is  usually  placed  at  his  door 
c .  in  some  place  where  he  is  accustomed  to 
walk;  the  tale  of  what  has  been  done  gener- 
aUy reaches  his  ears  through  ihe  medium  of 
a  neighbour;  the  culprit  can  no  longer  rest, 
[«] 


Preface 


the  first  pain  he  feels  is  an  intimation  that 
the  work  of  retribution  has  begun,  every 
symptom  is  magnified,  and  not  infrequently 
he  will  pine  away  under  the  influence  of  an 
uneasy  conscience  until  he  openly  acknow- 
ledges his  sin  to  the  wizard  and  receives  an 
antidote. 

If  the  charm  of  the  sorcerer  were  confined 
to  such  purposes  as  just  described,  not  much 
harm  would  result;  but  frequently  the  evil 
science  is  put  to  less  innocent  uses,  the  his- 
tory of  the  West  Indies  abounding  in  cases  of 
actual  murder  committed  by  these  man- 
witches;  and  as  the  poisonous  p  ants  used  in 
these  cases  leave  little  or  no  trace  behind 
them,  it  is  often  very  diflScult  to  find  evidence 
sufficient  to  convict  the  murderer.  The  de- 
luded negro  who  thoroughly  believes  in  the 
supernatural  powers  of  the  obeahmen  screen 
them  as  much  as  possible,  and  the  bravest 
tremble  at  the  very  sight  of  the  ragged  bundle, 
the  egg  shells  or  obeah  bottle  stuck  in  the 
branches  of  a  plantain  tree. 
W 


The  spirits  of  the  departed  are  known  as 
Duppies,"  and  as  there  is  no  civil  law  for- 
bidding  belief  in  these  ma,  ifestations.  the  su- 
peremion  is  wiaespread :  ad  openly  expressed. 
Three  days  after  death  and  fortunately  for 
three  mghts  only,  the  deceased  is  supposed  to 
nse  from  his  burial-place  and  visit  his  most 
intimate  friends  and  near  relation,;  during 
this  penod  not  a  single  relative  of  the  dead 
nan  will  dare  to  ventvre  near  the  place  of 
uitennent  or  walk  abroad  without  a  lantern 
and,  if  possible,  the  society  of  a  dog. 

Many  curious  customs  concerning  death 
and  burial  are  still  in  vogue,  as  for  instance 
the  leave-taking  of  Father  Dreckett's  family 
The  first  night  after  death,  the  corpse  is  left 
alone  ^-ith  two  lamps  burning  beside  it,  and 
these  lamps  are  kept  alight  in  the  same  room 
for  mne  nights  after.    Food  is  left  on  the 
grave  of  the  newly  buried  so  that  the  spirit 
may  not  hunger  when  it  rises  on  the  third 
day  after  burial,  at  which  time  it  is  said 
to  sit  on   a  stone  or  log  near  the  grave 


Preface 

and  say  in  tones  of  wonder,  "Wat!  you 
mean  to  say  it  is  here  dem  come  put  me?" 
after  which  it  returns  to  the  house  it  inhabited 
during  Ufe  and  looks  over  all  its  belongings. 

Wakes,  s'  lilar  to  those  of  Ireland,  ore 
customary,  a..  1  frequently  on  such  occasions 
"Jamaica  rum"  flows  all  too  freely,  and  day 
dawns  on  a  scene  changed  from  an  orderly 
meeting  of  psalm-singers  and  loud-voiced 
mourners  to  a  drunken  riot,  and  the  local 
doctor,  coming  down  to  his  early  morning 
coflEee,  finds  on  his  front  verandah  one  or 
two  mutilated  patients  of  either  sex. 

If  a  person  who  has  before  been  in  good 
health  and  robust  should  suddenly  lose 
weight  arJ  strength,  the  change  would  im- 
mediate!/ be  attributed  to  the  influence  of  a 
"  haunt"  or  "  Duppy  "  evilly  disposed  towards 
the  person  in  question,  and  the  services  of  a 
"Duppy  Catcher"  at  once  engaged,  w?ien  a 
change  for  the  better  soon  becomes  visible  in 
the  patient. 

Another  outcome  of  African  superstition 


is  the  Roaring  Calf,  a  much  dreaded  super- 
natural visitant,  supposed  to  be  the  spirit  of 
the  wicked  dead,  and  usually  appearing  in  the 
form  of  a  large  black  calf,  which  prowls  about 
at  night,  dragging  after  it  a  heavy  chain 

This  creature  can  be  induced  by  offerings  of 
rum  nee,  and  white  cocks  to  work  untold 
mischief  on  the  enemies  of  its  votary,  assum- 
mg.  m  order  to  do  so.  any  form  that  may 
best  smt  its  evil  ends. 

The  breatn  of  this  monster  is  believed 
to  be  very  poisonous  and  can  contaminate 
the  food  of  whole  families,  turning  every 
edible  le  they  touch  to  decay  and  so 

causing  i.   -vation  and  death. 

Like  all  ev::  things,  the  Roaring  Calf  fears 
hght  or  fire,  and  a  brandished  firestick  will 
fnghten  away  the  boldest  of  them. 

The  Wood  Horse  is  another  of  these  super- 
natural animals  and  approximates  closely  to 
his  cousin  the  Roaring  Calf,  with  the  excep- 
tion that  he  inhabits  only  dense  woods  and 
thickets. 

[xiii] 


Preface 


The  amusements  which  enliven  the  life  of 
the  Jamaican  negroes  are  very  much  the 
same  as  those  in  vogue  among  American 
negroes,  bat  the  Cake  Walk  is  as  yet  unknown. 
Singing  and  dancing  are  the  chief  sources 
of  enjoyment,  and  the  Jamaican  negro  will 
bet  hij  last  sixpence  on  a  horse  race. 

Story-telUng  is  a  favourite  pastime  with 
both  sexes  and  all  ages  and  Anancy  tales,  are 
the  most  popular.  Anancy  stories  are  African 
in  origin,  modified  by  environment,  and 
partake  in  character  of  the  style  of  the  well- 
known  Uncle  Remus  stories. 

No  intelligent  argument  has  ever  been 
brought  f  rward  as  to  the  reason  of  the  folk- 
tales of  the  Jamaican  negro  being  called 
"  Anancy  stories. "  Anancy  is  a  word  pre- 
sumably of  African  origin,  and  is  the  name 
given  by  the  negroes  to  a  filmy  ghost-like 
spider,  grey  in  colour,  with  diminutive  body 
and  immense  long  legs,  perfectly  harmless  and 
not  much  in  the  way,  dwelling  as  it  always 
does  at  the  tops  of  houses  or  trees.  Nor  is  it 
Wv] 


■',i 


Preface 


easy  to  understand  why  this  innocent  crea- 
ture should  be  chosen  to  represent  the  ruth- 
less, bloodthirsty  gnome,  cruel  father  and 
husband,   faithless  friend  and  pitUess  foe. 
for    'Bra*  Anancy"  is  a  veritable  Shylock, 
always  seeking  to  gain  a  mean  advantage  and 
almost  always  succeeding,  his  greed  being  out 
of  all  proportion  to  his  emaciated  frame,  while 
his  long  legs  are  none  too  long  for  his  many 
hairbreadth  escapes  from  richly  merited  pun- 
ishment.    He  is  the  "Brer  Rabbit"  of  Uncle 
Remus  and  the  GobKn  of  Western  Africa,  but 
shorn  of  all  redeeming  points  which  are  occa- 
sionally to  be  found  in  the  other  two  characters 
Anancy's  wife  is  called  "Crookie,"  aname 
which  might  have  been  more  suitably  applied 
to  her  husband,  and  takes  the  place  of  all 
dutiful  wives  in  African  ethics,  many  degrees 
below  that  of  her  fascinating  husband,  who  is 
at  hberty  to  make  love  to  as  many  others  as 
he  chooses,  and  in  hard  times  lives  on  the 
in  of  the  land,  while  Crookie  and  the  children 
may  starve  for  all  he  cares. 
Ixv] 


Preface 


!  ?!      I 

i  .4  i      ! 


The  children  are  frequently  mentioned  as 
victims  of  their  father's  cruelty,  but  other- 
wise, with  one  exception,  play  no  important 
part  in  the  weird  elfin  drama.  The  one 
exception  is  Taccooma,  the  eldest  son  and  a 
st.iking  proof  of  the  powers  of  heredity,  being 
ahnost  the  counterpart  of  his  father,  ■.-■rAy  a 
little  less  resourceful,  and  many  are  the  tour- 
neys of  wit  and  cunning  between  father  and 
son. 

In  these  stories  stray  words  occur  the 
meaning  of  which  the  negroes  themselves 
are  at  a  loss  to  explain,  such,  for  instance,  as 
"Bohimbo,"  and  it  seems  most  probable 
that  these  are  African  words  the  sounds  of 
which  the  younger  generation  have  caught 
and  retained  while  the  sense  was  buried  with 
their  grandparents. 

We  never  hear  of  the  death  of  Anancy  for 
even  the  King  of  Terrors  is  not  equal  to  his 
craft,  and  we  are  told  that  when  Anancy 
visits  him  in  his  mountain  lair  and  sets  fire  to 
his  beard  by  means  of  plantain  leaves  tied 
Uvi] 


to  a  long  pole  and  lighted,  he  chases  the 
mxschief-loving  elf  to  his  house  only  to  find 
h.s  prey  with  the  entire  family  cUng^'ng  to 
the  rafters  and  quite  out  of  reach.    Death 
announces  his  intention  of  waiting  till  they 
grow  tired  of  holding  on.  when  they  must  faU 
into  his  hands,  and  Anaa.y's  busy  brain  sets 
to  work  to  plan  a  method  of  escape.    One  by 
one  the  mother  and  children  faU  and  are 
devoured,  tiU  the  father  alone  is  left;  then  he 
calls  to  Death,  asking  him  to  roU  the  flour 
barrel  underneath  him  for  he  can  hold  on  no 
longer   and  if  he  were  to  faU  on  the  hard 
ground  he  would  be  smashed  to  pieces,  in 
which  case  Death,  would  lose  a  choice  morsel. 
Death  does  this,  and  Anancy,  descending  with 
as  much  force  as  he  can  muster,  drops  into  the 
flour  sending  up  such  a  cloud  that  Death  is 
blinded  for  the  moment  and  his  victim  makes 
good  his  escape.    "  So  it  was  that  Death  first 
^ved  m  the  bush  until  Anancy  brought  him 
to  the  house"  and  thereby  earned  the  ever- 
lasting grudge  of  the  West  Indian  negro. 
Ixvii] 


it^ 


Preface 

These  stories  are  dying  out,  being  forgot- 
ten and  vanishing  with  the  faithful  old  Nanas 
who  never  heard  the  names  of  Mother  Goose 
or  Hans  Christian  Andersen,  but  after  dark 
(for  these  stories  must  not  be  told  in  the  day- 
time) would  keep  the  children  committed  to 
their  charge  hushed  and  still  with  the  recital 
of  the  doings  of  "Bra'  Anancy." 

The  Jamaican  negro  like  his  brother  of 
the  United  States,  is  skilled  in  tasty  cookery, 
requiring  but  little  material  out  of  which  to 
produce  a  palatable  dish.  Duckanoes,  such 
as  Nana  Dreckett  made  for  Quamin,  are  a 
sort  of  pudding  made  of  com  meal,  new  sugar, 
and  spices  and  boiled  in  a  wrapping  of  plan- 
tain leaves,  and  a  good  hot  duckanoe,  just 
out  of  the  pot  and  still  smoking,  is  the  delight 
of  all  West  Indian  children  be  they  black, 
white,  or  coloured. 

Pones  are  also  much  relished,  and  nutritious 

vegetable  soups,  such  as   pepper  pot,  red 

pease  soup,  etc.,  form  the  principal  diet  of 

these  negroes  who  are  almost  vegetarians. 

Ixviii] 


;r  f 


As  a  rule,  the  Jamaican  negroes  are  much 
better  behaved  than  their  brethren  of  the 
Umted  States,  and  outrages  such  as  lynching 
and  burning  at  the  stake  are  unheard  of  in 
Jamaica,  for  the  reason  that  the  crimes  lead- 
ing to  these  methods  of  punishment  never 
occur  in  the  British  West  Indies;  in  fact  the 
negroes  of  these  islands  know  that  British 
law   recognises   no   difference   between   the 
Governor  himself  and  the   humblest   black 
man.  and  this  knowledge  makes  them  not 
only  law-abiding  citizens,  but  loyal  subjects 
of  the  British  Crown. 

May  Harvey  Drummond. 


Lennoxville, 

November,  1910. 


[xixj 


Contents 

Preface 

The  Story  of  Quamin 

CHAnn 

I— The  Choice  of  a  Name. 
II— The  Christening  . 
Ill— Nine  Years  After 
IV— QuAMiN  Goes  to  Work 

V-CONCERNING  THE  BREAKING  OF 

Mules 
VI— Obeah 

VII— The  Roaring  Calf 
VIII— Gossip 

IX— School  Days 
X— The     Passing 

Dreckett 

XI— The  Funeral 

XII— The  Pill  Box 

XIII— Negril  Again 

M 


OF     Father 


•      ill 

fACE 
I 

i8 

i' 

40 
48 

56 
67 
89 

99 

116 
157 

'39 
148 


Contents 

CRAPTEK 

XIV— Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  thi 

Parson    . 
XV— The  Bay    . 

FACI 

'. 

■59 
'75 

XVI— The  Shop  Changes  Hands 

198 

XVII— The  Exile  . 

ai9 

XVIII— The  Return       . 

33^ 

Other  Tales 

f                           Mary  and  Martha    . 

331 

Forbidden  Fruit 

253 

Methuselah's  Courtship  ' . 

268 

"  BusHA  "  Chicken  •      .    . 

385 

How  Puss  Come  to  Ketch  Rat  . 

•    303 

Anancy  and  Tiger     .... 

y>5 

!                            Anancy  and  Dog 

•  309 

K                            Anancy  and  his  Family     . 

j«» 

^H                                ■  Reprinted  from  Short  Stories. 
Ml                               *  Reprinted  from  Short  Stories, 

MH 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


The  Choice  of  a  Name 

XHE  dawn  had  scarcely  come  when  Nana 
*      Dreckett   stepped  out  of  the  door  of 
her  cottage  with  a  little  squirming  bundle  in 
ner  arms. 

"E'e  pick'ney  lively  as  any  dog-flea!"  she 
muttered  as  she  walked  briskly  across  the  in- 
tervemng  ground  and  into  the  small  thatched 
hut  scarcely  more  than  a  shed,  which  was 
her  knchen.  Here,  on  a  bundle  of  corn-trash 
>rt  a  safe  comer,  she  deposited  the  baby,  who 

Ztfl  Tu"  ^''^''''^'^  '°  hi«  impromptu' 
bed  st..ffed  h.s  little  black  fist  into  his  mouth 
while  h,s  bead-like  eyes  followed  tne  old 
woman  s  every  movement. 

Nana  Dreckett  proceeded  to  build  a  small 
fire  of  wood  on  the  earthen  floor,  and  blow 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


it  to  a  brisk  blaze  with  the  powerful  bellows 
of  her  own  lungs,  then  she  put  on  the  water 
for  her  old  man's  coffee,  set  his  mug  and 
spoon  upon  the  table,  and  once  more  turned 
her  attention  to  the  baby. 

"Come  here,  Quamin,  meek  me  wash  you 
face.  I  doan  has  a  drop  of  milk  to  give  you  dis 
mamin',  but  w'en  water  boil  I  will  meek 
little  flour  pap  for  you,  you  hear?  An'  so 
you  favour  [resemble]  you  ma  too!  Me  poor 
pick'ney." 

The  old  woman  heaved  a  deep  sigh  to  the 
memory  of  her  only  child  who  had  died  when 
Quamin  was  bom,  leaving  the  baby  to  his 
grandmother's  care;  then,  with  a  calabash 
dipping  up  some  water  out  of  a  kerosene  tin, 
she  sat  down  on  the  door-step  and  washed  his 
face  and  hands  with  the  corner  of  an  old  towel. 

By  the  time  this  scanty  toilet  was  com- 
pleted, the  water  on  the  fire  was  boiling, 
so  Quamin  was  returned  to  his  lowly  couch 
in  the  comer  and  the  coffee  quickly  made. 

Just  as  it  was  ready,  in  hobbled  Father 
l2l 


toJ:is  wife  he  said  souriyf  ^"™"^ 

W'at  I  want  to  ask  v™,  ,-« 

able-bodUa^     '  "°"  "^'"^^  '^^  -3^ 

hefr\°''''''"  ^"^^<^  «  scornful  look  at 

up  the  baby  and  carried  him  off  to  th^  house 

^uroVb^'""^""^^''^'^^-*-^^^^^ 
dJ::''-''  ^"'^  ^'-  °^  cold  roasted' 

l3l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


It  was  soon  after  this  that  the  grandmother 
made  up  her  mind  that  it  was  tim^  l  j  christen 
Quamin;  the  only  trouble  was  what  to  call 
him,  his  present  name  being  only  a  temporary 
affair,  indicating  the  day  of  the  week  on 
which  he  was  born:  namely,  Saturday. 

Not  far  from  her  house,  quarter  of  a  mile 
perhaps,  lived  Cousin  'Lizbet',  a  woman  of 
about  the  same  age  and,  by  repute,  a  prophet- 
ess and  seer.     To  her  went  Nana  for  advice. 

"Teck  de  Bible,"  said  Cousin  'Lizbet', 
"den  kneel  down  an'  ^.i-ay  de  Lard  to  give 
you  a  right  choice,  den  open  de  Book  an'  de 
firs'  name  dat  meet  you  eye — dat  same  is  de 
approve'  of  de  Lard." 

Nana  Dreckett  thought  this  was  a  grand 
idea  and  lost  no  time  in  acting  upon  it.  Kneel- 
ing beside  her  bed  she  prayed,  "Lard  sen' 
me  a  name  for  de  baby,  not  coiumon,  like 
John  or  Joseph,  but  somet'ing  none  of  dem 
toder  one  got. "  Then  she  arose,  and  opening 
her  tattered  old  Bible,  glanced  fearfully  at 
its  pages — Daniel — this  was  a  disappointment 


for  there  was  already  a  Daniel  in  the  cc  n- 
mumty,  so  she  ran  her  eye  down  the  p. ,-. 
until  ,t  was  arrested  by  Belteshazzar-then 
joy  shone  in  the  old  woman's  face.  "Dat  's 
deberyfing,"  she  said.  "Belteshazzar  is  a 
lovely  name,  an'  Daniel  Belteshazzar  I  never 
hear  before.    Daniel  was  anoint  of  de  Lard 

an  go  up  to  Heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire,  an' 
Bdteshazzar  was  King  of  de  Jews,  so  Quamin 
you  got  a  superior  name,  me  boy,  an'  you 

musnt  bawl  w'en  parson  put  de  water 'pon 
you  face  to  wash  away  you  sin.  " 

She  made  haste  to  visit  Cousin  'Lizbef 

and  ...part  her  success,  but  the  prophetess, 

who  had  seen  her  coming,  was  at  the  gate 

before  her  cottage  and  as  soon  as  Nana 

Dreckett   was   within    earshot    calleu   out, 

_  Rachel  baby  born  twelve  o'clock  to-day. " 

Nebber!"  exclaimed    the   visitor    taken 

aback.     "Whatshegot-boyorgal?" 

^ JGal,  an'  fat  as  butter  too.    Come  go  see 

The    hospitable    invitation    was    eagerly 
[5] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


accepted,  for  though  babies  were  by  no  means 
a  scarce  commodity  in  that  community,  and 
came  and  went  according  to  nature,  yet  a 
birth  or  a  funeral  was  enough  to  cause  some 
excitement  where  nothing  better  offered,  and 
for  a  time  at  least,  Quamin's  name  and  christ- 
ening were  forgotten.  Not  for  long,  how- 
ever, and  when  Rachel's  baby  had  been 
inspected  and  admired,  Nana  remembering 
her   mission  turned   to   'Lizbet'  and   said: 

"Aha!  Cousin,  de  news  'bout  Rachel  meek 
me  mos'  forget  to  tell  you  'bout  de  name  I 
fin'  for  Quamin.  Him  goin'  to  call  say, 
Daniel  Belteshazzar. " 

"A  powerful  name  for  true,  Nana;  you 
do  well  to  take  me  advice.  Rachel  pick'ney 
goin'  to  name,  Ruth  Deborah.  How  you 
like  dat?" 

"Firs'  rate,  me  frien*;  you  is  de  dickens 
to  fin'  name  for  pick'ney.  You  'member  de 
shucks  [snub]  parson  give  Margaret  Fuller 
w'en  she  would  n't  teck  you  advice?" 

"I  mos'  forget  'bout  it   now — how  it  go 

[6] 


agen?"  inquiped    Cousin    'Lizbef   thought- 

';  Yc  i  tell  Margaret  say  :  ,c  mus'  call  de  boy 
Isaiah,  an  she  dat  uppish  she  suck  her  teet' 
pon  you  an'  say  she  able  to  name  her  own 
baby  w^douten  you;  den  w'en  she  go  to  get 
de  cble  chnsten-  an'  de  parson  ax  her  de 
name,  she  answer  say,  'Be'lzebub  Jehosha- 
Phat,   an  parson  say  him  earn  caU  pick'ney 
Belzebub.forBe'kebuban-dedebbilisone 
an  de  same  fing.  only  dedebbil  got  tail  an- 
horn  an   Mm  foot  meek  like  cow  hoof,  an- 
Belzebub   meek  jus'   like   plain   man.    So 
parson  g,ve  de  baby  name  Matt'ew  Jehosha- 
Phat,  an  Margaret  was  dat  shame  she  never 
say  a  word." 

Cousin    'Lizbet'    nodded    her    head    weU 

pleased.  Shehadnotreallyforgotten  the  inci- 
dent but  pretended  to  have  done  so  that  she 
might  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  it  recited. 

An.  Cousin,"   continued   Nana,  "some 
time  w  en  you  got  de  spirit,  I  beg  you  dream 
pon  Quamin  an'  tell  me  w'at  you  see?" 
17] 


i 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

"All  right,  Nana,  I  will  do  dat— but  w'en 
is  de  chri.'itenin'?" 

"Nex'  week  Sunday;  Parson  Blackgrove 
comin'  to  preach  at  de  meetin'  house  dat  day 
an'  I  goin'  ask  him  to  baptise  de  baby.  I 
goin'  start  'pen  de  cake  to-marra ;  look  here. 
Cousin,  I  pay  whole  of  two  shillin'  an'  six- 
pence for  salt  butter  for  it,  an'  ole  Missis  give 
me  all  de  raisin  an'  currant  an'  even  to  de 
amman  dat  lefifen  ovo^r  w'en  Miss  Nellie 
weddin'  cake  meek.  She  give  me  a  bottle  of 
ginger  wine  too,  to  drink  de  baby  healt',  an' 
you  would  n'  believe  de  tribulation  I  into 
to  keep  de  ole  man  mout'  from  dat  bottle 
neck.  Lard  ha'  massey!  Sence  de  day  I  got 
colic  an'  him  see  me  teck  a  tase — jus'  'nough 
to  warm  me  inside,  him  doan  finish  twis' 
an*  groan  himself  like  him  goin'  dead  of 
cholera.  But  him  can  twis'  an'  groan,  him 
will  nebber  tase  a  drop  till  de  day  Quamin 
christen." 

Nana  Dreckett  tightened  with  vigoiu'  the 
cord    around    her   waist   which    sjrved    to 

[8] 


The  Choice  of  a  Name 

shorten  her  skirts  and  keep  them  from  the 
damp  grass.  Her  contemptuous  regard  for 
her  husband  was  a  source  of  amusement  to 
her  neighbours,  and  now  Cousin  Xizbef 
could  not  restrain  a  laugh,  broad  and  hearty 
as  the  negro  laugh  always  is. 

"Day-day,"  said  her  visitor  shortly,  just 
a  httle  offended  at  the  other's  want  of  sym- 
pathy, and  her  shortened  skirts  went  swaying 
down  the  path. 

"Day-day,  Nana,"  returned  Cousin  'Liz- 
bet  .  still  laughing  a  little.  She  waited  till 
the  other  was  quite  out  of  sight  and  then, 
the  short  West  Indian  twilight  having  begun 
went  in  to  light  the  lamp  for  Rachel  and  see' 
to  the  baby's  wants. 

It  was  dusk  when  Nana  Dreckett  reached 
the  door  of  her  own  hut  and  Quamin,  whom 
she  had  left  asleep,  had  just  opened  his  eyes 
and  begun  to  cry  for  something  to  eat.  Pick- 
ing up  the  baby  in  one  hand  and  a  smaU 
kerosene  lamp  in  the  other,  she  made  her  way 
to  the  kitchen  where  Father  Dreckett  sat 


m  'I 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

smoking  as  usual,  while  the  pot  of  red  pcjise 
soup  bubbled  away  on  the  fire.  Putting  the 
lamp  on  the  table  but  keeping  the  baby  in 
her  anns,  she  returned  to  the  house  for  two 
basins  and  spoons  wherewith  to  eat  the  soup, 
also  a  small  china  mug,  gaily  flowered,  for 
Quamin's  use.  Into  the  latter  she  crumbled 
a  small  piece  of  bread,  then  added  a  spoonful 
of  new  sugar,  and  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

Placing  Quamin  upon  his  bed  of  corn-trash, 
she  took  from  the  fire  a  tin  pail  of  hot  water 
a  little  of  which  completed  the  preparations 
for  Daniel  Belteshazzar's  supper  which  he  lost 
no  time  in  swallowing,  thus  leaving  his 
grandmother  free  to  look  to  the  wants  of  her 
husband. 

The  two  bowls  were  filled  with  nourishing 
soup  and  Nana  placed  one  bowl  before  the 
old  man,  then  drawing  up  a  chair  to  the  table, 
sat  herself  down  before  the  other.  After 
taking  a  few  spoonfuls,  she  paused  to  watch 
Father  Dreckett  who  seemed  to  be  having  no 
little  difficulty  in  manipulating  his  spoon. 

[10] 


The  Choice  of  a  Name 

Looking  up  suddenly  as  though  conscious 
of  bcng  watched,  he  caught  his  wife's  eyes 
fixed  on  him  and  the  spoon  fell  to  the  table 
wble  the  two  stared  at  each  other,  she  with 
ever  deepening  suspicion,  he  like  some  wild 
animal  at  bay.    She  broke  the  silence. 

But    w'at    do    you,    Fader    Dreckctt?" 
she  asked  sharply. 

"Nofin-  doan  do  me,  an'  I  want  to  ax 
you  wat  meek  you  watchin'  me  like  puss 
watch  mauger  Johnson?  Dat 's  'nough  to 
ac  pon  anybody  constitution  an'  meek  dem 
han  tnmble.  Keep  you  ole  she-puss  eye  to 
you'selfan'lef'mealone." 

His  retort  at  an  end,  the  old  man  made 
another  heroic  attempt  to  wTestle  with  his 
spoon,  while  his  wife  finished  her  repast  in 
science,  then  she  left  him  and  went  again  to 
the  house  and  to  the  little  wooden  bed  wUch 
stood  in  a  corner  of  their  bedroom.    She 
slipped  her  hand  into  a  hole  in  the  straw 
mattress  and  brought  to  light  a  rusty  key 
wit.  which  she  opened  a  trunk,  taking  from 
["J 


B'l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

it  a  black  bottle.  Holding  it  carefully  to 
the  light,  she  saw  that  it  wanted  only  the 
little  she  herself  had  taken  and  her  fears 
subsided,  but  as  she  continued  to  gaze  lov- 
ingly at  her  treasure,  a  certain  change  in  the 
colour  of  its  contents  made  her  examine  the 
cork  carefully. 

Yes!  sure  enough,  the  bottle  had  been 
opened  since  she  had  opened  it.  Trembling, 
she  dived  once  more  into  the  trunk  and  this 
time  brought  to  light  a  corkscrew — a  bran 
new  one  which  she  had  bought  to  use  at  the 
christening.  Hastily  drawing  the  cork,  she 
put  the  mouth  of  the  bottle  to  her  lips 
and  one  taste  was  enough  to  confirm  her 
worst  fears  —  the  wine  had  been  watered 
and  was  good  for  nothing,  and  all  her  plans 
for  bringing  luck  to  her  grandchild  were 
overthrown. 

Tears  of  disappointment  welled  up  in  her 

dark  eyes  but  rage  would  not  let  them  fall; 

swiftly  she  shut  and  locked  the  trunk,  hiding 

the  key  in  her  bosom  this  time,  and  taking 

I12I 


The  Choice  of  a  Name 

the  bottle  with  her,  rushed  out  into  the  storm 
wh  ,h  had  suddenly  darkened  the  sky. 

Great  drops  of  rain  were  falling,  but  Nana 
Dreckett  heeded  them  not;  in  her  own  I  eart 
a  far  worse  hurricane  raged  and  the  lightning 
of  vengeance  flashed  from  her  eyes. 

Father  Dreckett  heard  her  coming,  and 
picking  up  the  baby,  pretended  to  fondle  it 
just  as  her  swaying  skirts  flashed  in  at  the 
door. 

"You  ole  debbil!  give  me  dat  chile;  doan 
you  dare  touch  him,  you  ole  t'ief  you!" 

She  snatched  the  child  from  his  arms,  and 
Quamin,  not  used  to  such  rough  treatment, 
began  to  cry,  but  his  grandmother  for  once 
did  not  heed  him  and  went  on  berating  her 
husband,  her  voice  growing  louder  and  m..re 
shrill  as  her  excitement  grew. 

"I  never  tase  you  wine,  may  lightnin' 
strike  me  dead  if  I  do,"  he  protested  feebly, 
but  his  wife  brushed  aside  his  words  as 
though  they  were  cobwebs. 

"  You  ole  liar!    Spoiler  of  de  faderless  an" 

[13] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


I 


widder!  May  de  Lard  do  wid  you  as  him 
do  wid  Sophia  an'  Ananias  an'  strike  you 
dead  wid  de  lie  red-hot  'pon  you  tongue. " 

A  blinding  flash  filled  the  kitchen  with 
light,  and  the  roar  of  the  thunder  as  it  dashed 
against  the  surrounding  hills  mingled  with 
the  mocking  laughter  of  the  old  woman  whose 
excitement  had  reached  the  point  of  frenzy. 
She  stood  with  outstretched  hand,  pointing  to 
her  husband  who,  terrified  and  thi.  :.ing  that 
his  wifi's  prayer  had  been  heard,  was  or.  his 
knees  imploring  mercy. 

"If  I  did  teck  de  ginger  wine,  it  was  she 
temp'  me,"  he  pleaded,  not  knowing,  in  his 
ignorance,  that  he  voiced  the  excuse  of  his 
sex  from  the  world's  beginning. 

"Ah!  so  you  'blige  to  own  you  teck  it,  eh? 
Well  de  debbil  comin'  for  you  dis  minit. 
See!  see!"  she  cried  wildly,  pointing  to  one 
corner  of  the  kitchen  where  a  wreath  of  blue 
smoke  hovered,  and  a  tiny  flame-coloured 
tongue  licked  the  thatching  of  the  roof;  "him 
comin'  wid  him  fire  buggy  to  teck  you  to 
[14] 


"^^g  Choice  of  a  Name 

nStr ' '  ''"'•  '"'•'  "^^  ^-^  ^ 

With  the  shriek  of  a  lost  soul.  Father 

Dreckett  fell  on  his  face  and  lay  there  kick- 
ing and  screaming  till  some  one  coming  sud- 
denly  m  at  the  door  grasped  him  finnly  round 
the  wa.st  and  turned  him  on  his  back,  while 

his  k.cks  and  screams  grew  more  violent,  f 
he  knew  that  now  indeed  his  doom  had  over- 
taken  him. 

."  ^'""^  ""^  ^"'ne  cole  water,  Nana, "  said  the 
qmet   voice  of  Cousin   'Li.bef.    "him  got 

Nana  obeyed;  and  as  if  her  desire  for  van- 
goance  was  satisfied  and  the  tension  at  her 
heart  loosened,  she  suddenly  sat  down  on  a 
deal  box  and  broke  into  hearty  laughter 

be  de  debb,l,  an'  him  mos'  frighten  to  deaf. " 
By  th:s  time  Father  Dreckett  had  realised 
^s  mistake  and  was  sitting  up.  the  water 
strcammg  down  his  face,  for  Cousin  'Lizbet' 
had  been  generous,  staring  round  the  kitchen 
Us] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


as  if  not  quite  certain  that  his  Satanic  Ma- 
jesty did  not  lurk  in  some  dark  corner.  Re- 
assured by  the  survey,  he  got  up  and  looked 
about  for  his  hat  and  little  clay  pipe,  which 
in  his  struggles  had  been  detached  from  his 
person,  an  event  which  happened  seldom. 
Finding  them,  he  retreated  to  his  own  particu- 
lar corner  and  sat  down  while  his  wife  told 
the  whole  story  to  the  visitor. 

"An'  dc  bes'  of  it  all.  Cousin,"  added  Nana 
when  the  talc  was  finished,  "him  tell  de  Lard 
say  is  me  temp'  him. " 

"Yes!  is  do  you  temp'  me,"  came  from 
the  comer  which  harboured  the  old  man. 
"Wasn'  it  you  tell  me  say,  St.  Paul  say, 
*Teck  a  little  wine  for  de  belly  ache'?  An' 
I  did  got  a  dickens  of  a  colic  dis  afternoon. " 

"Well,  me  frien',  you  better  not  t'ief  wine 
w'en  you  sick  agen,  or  de  debbil  won't  miss 
you  dat  time.  Red  lavender  an'  peppermint 
is  de  bes'  t'ing  for  colic,  an'  any  time  you  go 
ask  him  Big  Missis  will  give  you  some,  so  no 
need  to  t'ief  an'  call  down  de  wrat'  of  de 

[16] 


Lard  pon  you-self  an'  you  house."  said 
Cousm  L:sbetMookIng  up  at  the  roof  which, 
thanks  to  the  heavy  rain,  had  been  only 
slightly  scorched. 

Father  Dreckett  made  no  answer  but 
went  on  pulling  away  at  the  pipe  which  he 
had  forgotten  to  light,  and  the  prophetess 
turned  to  give  Nana  the  latest  news  of  Ruth 
Deborah,  and  while  away  the  time  till  the 
ra:n  should  cease. 

As  she  rose  to  go,'  and  passed  by  the  table 
on  wbch  the  diluted  wine  still  stood,  she 
quickly  took  it  and,  hiding  it  i„  the  ample 
folds  of  her  skirts,  went  0"t  v ; ,  A^^rved 

When    Father    Dreck.f     -         .eo'vered 
sufficiently  to  notice  anything,  he  remembered 
the  wine  and  seeing  that  it  no  longer  stood 
upon  the  table  and  fearing  that  the  devil  had 
been  at  work  once  more,  left  the  kitchen 
quickly  and  went  to  bed;  not  to  his  accus. 
tomed  place  in  the  little  fourposter.  however, 
but  to  a  comer  of  the  second  room  or  hall 
where  some  empty  com  bags  were  lying. 
'  I17J 


II 


:|  i  iji 


II: 


The  Christening 

N  TANA  would  have  concealed  the  loss  of 
•l  ^  the  wine  from  its  donor,  but  in  its  jour- 
ney around  the  black  population  of  the  dis- 
trict, the  story  had  come  to  the  ears  of  little 
black  Mimba,  daughter  of  the  cook  at  the 
Great  House,  whose  duty  it  was  to  cut  up 
cocoa-head  for  the  poultry,  and  chase  mis- 
guided chickens  out  of  the  garden. 

Now  Mimba  was  only  a  woman  in  embryo, 
and  on  the  morning  of  the  christening,  when 
Big  Missis  called  her  into  the  buttery  to  hunt 
behind  the  piled-up  rows  of  bottles  for  a 
dead  rat  whose  presence  had  been  made 
manifest  by  the  odour,  the  bottles  recalled 
the  story  to  the  mind  of  the  little  girl,  and 
her  lips  yielded  to  temptation. 

Big  Missis  laughed  heartily  at  the  incident 

(18) 


The  Christening 


and  the  child's  quaint  way  cf  teUing  it.  then 
selecting  another  bottle  of  the  same  wine 
she  gave  it  to  Mimba  with  injunctions  to 
hurry  as  fast  as  she  could  to  Nana  Drecketfs 
house  and  be  careful  not  to  faU. 

Mimba  needed  no  second "  bidding  but 
darted  down  the  hill  and  was  soon  at  her 
destination,  panting  and  happy. 

.  "Mamin',  Nana  Dreckett,"  she  said,  drop- 
ping a  rapid  curtsey.  "Big  Missis  sen'  me 
wid  dis  for  you,  mam,"  she  continued,  pre- 
senting  her  mistress'  gift  to  the  old  woman 

Nana's  delight  knew  no  bounds.  "Now 
praise  de  Lard  an'  Big  Missis  for  she  have 
a  big  heart!  Now  Quamin  luck  won't  be 
teckn  from  him  an'  me  gran'chile  heait' 
gom  to  drink  wid  wine  de  same  as  white 
baby.  But,  Mimba,  how  Big  Missis  know 
bout  de  misfortune  wid  de  firs'  bottle?" 
"I  doan  know,  mam,"  innocently  replied 
the  httle  girl  with  her  finger  in  her  mouth. 

'You  can  go  into  de  house  an'  look  'pon 
de  table;  but  doan  touch  not'ing." 
I19J 


f^ 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


1   13 


li         'I 


Now  Mimba,  in  common  with  all  the 
neighbourhood,  stood  in  wholesome  awe  of 
Nana  Dreckett  and  though  her  little  soul 
yearned  to  pinch  off  a  tiny  crumb  from  the 
big  christening  cake  which  stood  so  invitingly 
on  the  table,  she  felt  obliged  to  content  her- 
self with  wetting  her  finger  in  her  mouth  and 
running  it  round  the  cake  then  licking  it  to 
get  the  sweet  taste  of  the  icing,  after  which 
she  left  in  a  hurry,  not  feeling  herself  proof 
against  further  temptation. 

The  night  before.  Father  Dreckett  had  in 
some  measure  restored  himself  to  his  former 
rather  doubtful  position  in  his  wife's  good 
graces  by  bringing  from  the  "ground"  a 
bountiful  supply  of  provisions:  yams,  cocoas, 
plantains,  chotas,  and  bread-fruit.  Then, 
that  morning  before  dawn,  he  had  killed  and 
scraped  the  little  roasting  pig  and  plucked 
much  poultry,  all  of  which  must  be  cooked 
tor  the  christening  breakfast. 

When  the  chickens  were  trussed  and  the 
little  pig  in  the  roast   pan,  his  legs  stuck 

[20] 


The  Christening 

jauntily  into  his  sides  as  though  they  were 
pockets,  a  shining  green  lin,e  between  h 

teeth,  an  old.  half-witted  woman  was  left  in 
tti;;r^"^"^-^^— -dress 

Quamin.  the  hero  of  it  all.  was  crawling 
about  the  path  between  house  and  kitchen  in 
happy  unconsciousness,  so  she  passed  him  by 

firlt.        ""'''"*  ^'^  '°°^  ^^'^''  ^'''^^'^ 

The  little  fringe  of  white  wool  at  the  back 

of  h,s  head  was  relentlessly  combed  out,  the 

brown  wnnkles  of  his  throat  hidden  by  a 
stiff  collar.  h>s  gnarled  old  feet.  wWch  knew 
no  comfort  save  in  the  old  carpet  slippers 

orced  mto  the  new  boots  withThe  "squTk 
father  "  and  his  toilet  completed  bya'shiny 
oJack  frock  coat,  and  crowned  with  a  beaver 

hat  both  of  wh.-ch  had  served  "Big  Massa" 
at  funeral  and  wedding  for  many  a  year 
and  were  of  the  style  of  half  a  century  ago' 

Nows.tdownan'doan™mpleupyouif 
tUl  I  put  on  me  own  clothes."  said  the  wife 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


as  she  dismissed  her  better  half.  Her  own 
costume  was  simple  enough,  being  a  good 
old  fashioned  lavender  print,  carrying  an 
unlimited  allowance  of  starr^i.  On  her  head 
she  wore  a  bright  bandanna  handkerchief 
surmounted  by  a  small,  untrimmed  sailor  hat. 

Quamin  was  her  next  consideration  and  on 
him  she  bestowed  the  utmost  care.  His  long 
christening  robe  was  snowy  white  and  low 
at  the  neck,  where  a  string  of  rej  coral  beads 
showed  brightly  agwust  the  soft  little  black 
throat.  On  his  feet  she  put  a  pair  of  pink 
knitted  bootees,  the  glory  of  which  was  only 
for  the  curious,  being  completely  hidden  by 
the  flowing  lawn  robe. 

The  dressing  accomplished,  the  old  woman 
laid  the  crowing  baby  on  her  lap  and  looked 
long  and  lovingly  at  him,  while  a  few  tears 
rolled  down  her  cheeks  and  fell  on  his. 

"Oh!  Quamin,  Quamin,"  she  murmured, 

"if  you  poor  moder  could  only  see  you  now. 

An'  maybe  Massa  up  a'  top  openin'  de  door 

of  Heaven  dis  minit  so  she  can  look  down 

("I 


The  Christening 


•pon  her  baby  an'  know  dat  him  goin'  to  be 
baptise*  an'  consecrate  to  de  Lard  dis  day 
She  wiU  know  to.  dat  you  Grannie  good  to 
you,  praise  de  Lard!" 

Nana  Dreckett  rose  with  a  sigh  and  taking 
a  last  look  at  the  table,  started  with  Quamin 
and  Father  Dreckett  for  the  church. 

Nana's  brother  Constantine  and  the  grand- 
mother herself  undertook  to  make  the  neces- 
sary promises  for  Quamin  who  conducted 
himself  like  a  man,  gazing  up  at  the  ebony 
face  of  Parson  Blackgrove  with  eyes  full  of 
wonder  and  questioning  but  without  fear,  and 
taking  the  Uberal  sprinkling  of  water  without 
a  sound  of  protest. 

The  ceremony  over,  Nana  and  the  parson 
led  the  way  back  to  the  house  and  were  fol- 
lowed by  the  guests,  all  gaily  dressed  in  Sun- 
day garments,  chattering  and  happy  at  the 
thought  of  the  feast  that  awaited  them. 

Handing  the  baby  to  Cousin  'Lizbef  who 
had  come  with  Ruth  Deborah  and  Rachel  the 
hostess  retired   to  the  kitchen  where,  with 
123] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


the  help  of  old  Mary,  the  assistant  cook, 
she  soon  had  the  viands  properly  dished  and 
laid  on  the  table,  at  one  end  of  which  she  took 
her  seat,  at  the  same  time  motioning  the 
parson  to  the  other  end. 

Father  Dreckett,  left  to  find  a  place  for 
himself,  was  not  long  in  choosing,  and  quietly 
placed  himself  on  the  right  of  his  wife  where 
stood  the  new  bottle  of  wine;  but  Nana, 
unwilling  to  run  any  further  risks,  quietly 
removed  her  treasure  to  her  left,  a  place  of 
safety  where  sat  Cousin  'Lizbet'. 

A  smothered  giggle  rippled  round  the  table 
at  which  Father  Dreckett  scowled,  and  the 
parson,  to  create  a  diversion,  hurriedly  asked 
a  blessing,  after  which  the  company  fell  to, 
making  promiscuous  use  of  fingers  and  forks 
and  short  work  of  the  food. 

When  pig  and  poultry  were  demolished, 
the  big  christening  cake  was  cut  and  the  wine 
uncorked.  Nana  Dreckett  made  the  rounds 
of  the  table,  bottle  in  hand,  dividing  its 
contents  without  discrimination  among  her 

[24l 


The  Christening 


guests,  but  completely  ignoring  her  husband, 
an  omission  which  was  not  lost  on  the  com- 
pany whose  ill-concealed  mirth  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  hostess'  demand  that  the  baby 
be  brought  to  her. 

With  the  child  in  her  arms,  she  rose  with 
dignity  and  said. 

"Parson  Blackgrove,  I  mus'  ask  you,  sah, 
to  meek  de  toas'  for  de  pick'ney  healt'. " 

"Wid  greates'  of  pleasure,  mam,"  replied 
the  parson  with  alacrity,  but  keeping  his 
seat;  this  nettled  Nana  somewhat,  and  before 
he  had  time  to  speak  again,  she  continued: 
"Ladies  an*  gentleman,  please  to  get  up. 
Seems  like  you  doan  know  de  ways  of  quality 
but  jes'  behavin'  like  ignorant  niggers." 

In  days  gone  by  the  old  woman  had  been 
witness  of  many  a  gay  wedding  and  christen- 
ing at  the  Great  House  and  knew  just  how 
such  things  should  be  conducted,  therefore 
her  guests  did  not  resent  her  plain  speaking 
but  rose  in  a  body,  each  one  with  his  or  her 
glass  of  wine,  not  excepting  Father  Dreckett 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


who,  having  nothing  better,  contented  himself 
with  a  glass  of  water. 

"Ladies  and  gentleman,"  said  Parson 
Blackgrove,  now  on  his  feet,  "dis  is  an  occa- 
sion of  great  glory  to  dis  family  .-'en  de  firs' 
bom  of  it -' ' 

"  Lard !  Parson, "  interrupted  a  saucy  young 
girl,  "is  doan  de  firs'  bom,  sah." 

"De  firs'  born  gran'ckile,"  continued  the 
parson  without  noticing  the  interruption, 
except  by  the  emphasis  which  he  put  upon 
the  last  words,  "have  been  received  into  de 
fold  of  de  Lamb.  He  have  been  washed  in  de 
blood  of  de  Lamb  an'  am  w'ite  as  de  snow 
on  de  mountain  top." 

Here  all  eyes  were  hastily  turned  on  Qua- 
min in  whose  colour,  however,  no  change  was 
as  yet  visible. 

"May  de  Lard  bless  him  an'  may  he  t'rive 
like  Abraham,  Isaac,  an'  Jacob,  an'  may  his 
seed  increase  to  de  encumberance  of  de 
Ian'." 

Here  the  discourse  was  cut  short  by  an 

[26] 


The  Christening 


exclamation  from  Nana  Drcckett  who  until 
now  had  been  ignorant  of  her  husband's 
intention  to  drink  the  baby's  health  in  water. 

"My  God!  man,  is  you  dat  simple  dat  you 
doan  know  say,  drink  dem  healt'  in  water, 
de  somebody  goin'  drown?" 

"I  doan  care,"  returned  he  doggedly,  "I 
goii  •  to  drink  me  own  gran'-pick'ney  healt" 
dis  day,  an'  if  I  doan  has  wine,  I  goin'  teck 
water. " 

Nana  wavered  between  two  evils,  but 
seeing  determination  in  her  husband's  atti- 
tude, wisely  chose  the  lesser  and  poured  a 
few  grudging  drops  from  the  precious  bottle 
into  another  glass  and  handing  it  to  him  said, 
resignedly. 

"Better  wase  de  wine  dan  turn  de  pick'nev 
luck."  ^ 

With  one  consent,  and  without  further 
hindrance,  the  glasses  were  drained;  and  as 
they  rattled  down  upon  the  table.  Cousin 
•Lizbet'  put  up  her  hand  to  command  atten- 
tion, then  sinking  slowly  down  upon  her  seat, 
I»7] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


her  head  fell  back  and  her  eyes  gazed  fixedly 
up  at  the  bare  rafters  of  the  thatched  roof. 

"She  got  de  spirit ! "  ran  in  an  awed  whisper 
round  the  table  and  the  silence  became  in- 
tense. 

When  her  trance  had  lasted  some  minutes, 
the  seer  suddenly  resumed  a  sitting  posture 
and  said. 

"Here  endeth  the  vision  of  my  head  upon 
my  bed. " 

"Amen!"  devoutly  responded  all  the  com- 
pany, led  by  the  parson. 

"Wat  you  see.  Cousin?"  demanded  Nana 
in  eager  excitement. 

"Quamin  goin'  turn  parson,  Nana,"  replied 
the  prophetess.  "I  see  de  archangel  Gabriel 
pourin'  oil  'pon  him  head,  den  blow  de  big 
brass  trumpet  an'  holler  say:  'Daniel  Bel- 
teshazzar  is  anointed  of  de  Lard.'  Den 
little  w'ile  after  I  see  him  standin'  by  de  altar 
of  de  Lard  wid  de  Book  in  him  han'  an 
before  him  is  a  vas'  multitud  of  people. 
He  lifted  up  his  voice  an'  spake  unto  dem  an' 

[28] 


The  Christening 

•  de  soun-  was  like  as  a  roarin'  lion  an'  de 
whole    congregation    trimble    dereat.     Yes 

sure   him  goin-  turn  parson  an-  a  powerful' 
preacher  in  de  Ian'." 

"De  very  fing!  de  very  t'ing!"  cried  Nana 

Dreckett,  clapping  her  hands  in  rapturous 

exatement.    "Oh!  Cousin,  you  is  tip-top 'pon 

Cousin  'Lizbet'  only  smiled,  for  right  well 
had  she  known  Nana's  desire. 

AH  necessity  for  silence  now  at  an  end 
the  conversation  became  both  animated  and 
ger  ^ral. 

■  ^chel.  who  was  too  much  accustomed 
t'  her  mother's  visions  to  be  impressed  by 
them,  had  made  use  of  the  abstraction  of  the 
others  to  slip  some  good  big  slices  of  cake  into 
the  handkerchirf  which  she  had  spread  upon 
her  lap  and  which  she  now  carefully  hid 
under  the  skirts  of  Ruth  Debora?..  She 
rose  now  saying  that  it  was  time  to  go  home 
for  the  baby  had  fallen  asleep  in  her  arms; 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


so  the  company,  after  giving  the  hero  of  the 
day  many  loud  and  hearty  kisses,  shaking 
hands  with  their  hostess,  and  nodding  care- 
lessly to  Father  Dreckett,  filed  out  of  the 
house  and  wended  their  way  homeward;  all 
except  Parson  Blackgrove  who  was  to  sponj 
the  night  at  the  scene  of  his  ministrations. 


[30] 


Ill 

Nine  Years  After 

'THE  nine  years  following  his  christening 
*      were  uneventful  ones  for  Quamin,  who 
had  grown  and  thriven  in  a  way  to  fill  his 
grandmother^s  heart  with  pride  and  joy  and 
now  at  ten  years  of  age  he  was   much  like 
any  other  little  boy  of  his  race,  or  indeed  of 
any  race,  wild  and  mischief-loving,  returning 
his   grandmother's  aged  devotion  with  the 
thoughtless,  inconsequent  love  of  childhood 
and  while  she  spent  her  days  toiling,  now 
m  the  provision  field,  now  at  laundry  work 
for  the  Great  House  so  that  she  might  lay 
aside    something    against    the    time    when 
Quamin's  education  must  begin,  he  was  run- 
nmg  about  bare  of  head  and  feet  and  almost, 
It  might  be  said,  bare  of  body  also,  worrying 
everything  within  reach  from  Ruth  Deborah 
[3i] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


to  the  old  sow  whose  oflfspring  had  furnished 
part  of  the  christening  feast. 

This  morning  he  and  Quasheba,  that  being 
the  nickname  of  Ruth  Deborah,  born  on  a 
Sunday,  were  busy  catching  frogs  in  a  pond 
not  far  from  Nana  Dreckett's  house.    Qua- 
mm,  armed  with  a  stick  and  tin  dipper,  was 
the  huntsman  while  his  companion  took  care 
of  the  captives.    As  they  were  handed  to  her 
by  Quamin,  she  seized  them  by  one  hind 
leg  and  struggle  as  they  might,  the  little 
brown  hand  never  relaxed  its  hold;  she  was  a 
tenacious    little    mortal,    this    playmate   of 
Quamin's. 

"Quash!  Quash,  look!"  shouted  the  boy 
holding  up  a  huge  frog  for  her  inspection.' 
^  I  got  de  gran'fader  of  dem  all.  De  skin 
•pon  him  back  thick  like  alligetter  skin.  Now 
min'  you  hoi'  him  tight  for  him  got  a  power 
in  him  foot. " 

"Give   me  here,"  quietly  responded   his 
companion,  with  calm  assurance. 

She  quickly  transferred  the  four  frogs  she 
[32] 


already  held  to  her  left-  h,  a    ," 

right  free  to  cope  Jthl  '  ''"^'"^  ^^ 

'■o  cope  with  the  patriarch. 

Jfou  can  jump,  me  fripn*  ••   i, 
trophising  the  W   \  «he  said,  apos- 

f     mg  tne  frog  who  struggled  for  fr. 
dom,  "till  you  foot  pop  off   S 
get 'way."  ^P  °"'  but  you  won't 

-det';hX''^"''^^''°'^°^*'>e«e;d 
that  dSon*^^"^""^--^  'nastily  in 

following  as  fast  a.  .T,  '  Q^^^heba 

1».  mute  ...ito,  .d„i^„      ™*  I"  "1 

a  little  Shamefaced  ttOua\;'°" 
thing  daunted   h.u        .         Q"asheba,    no- 

k>c4  quaL:  thatT         ''"'^  "'^^  '^'^ 
abetterXr'''''^°"^*^"^'--Shtget 

"!°"  °"^''*  *°  ^«  -hamed  of  you'self,- 
(33J 


m 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


big  boy  like  you  ketchin'  fings  like  dat," 
he  said  severely  to  Quamin.  "I  did  fink 
Nana  say  she  was  goin'  sen'  you  to  school." 
"Yes,  sah,  but  she  say  I  doan  big  'nough 
yet  to  go  'way  so  far. " 

"Wen,  I  goin'  talk  to  her  'bout  it  dis  very 
mamin',  for  you  will  go  on  till  you  turn  t'ief 
for  want  of  somet'ing  better  to  do." 

During  this, conversation,  Constantine  was 
riding  towards  his  sister's  cottage  with  the 
children  trotting  beside  him.  They  were 
silent  for  awhile  except  for  Quasheba's  con- 
tinued admonition  to  the  frogs,  until  an 
exclamation  from  Quamin  made  Constantine 
inquire. 

"Wat  is  de  matter  wid  you?" 

"Quasheba,  you  is  a  nasty  pick'ney,"  the 
boy  said  in  tones  of  deep  disgust;  "look  here, 
Godpa,  she  jus'  done  bite  off  de  buUfrog 
toe. " 

The  man  could  hardly  keep  his  seat  for 
laughter. 

"How  it  tase,  pick'ney?"  he  asked. 
[34l 


"°°^''  have  no  tase  at  all  " 
-Plied  Quasheba,  ";„s'  ei.      'teilTt'"" 

h>m  wouldn't  listen,  so  I  bite  1      f        ' 
chill  him  spirit."  ^""  *°«  t° 

Quamin  now  joined  in  the  la„^h         . 
•ng  his  supple  body  in  /         ^  '  ''°"*°'*- 
have  made  his  for.  ''^^  ^"'^'^  ^°«ld 

-Me  the  itt  e  r"  r''  '  ""^^  '=°-P->" 

-on.,uit::aX^t:tt2'^''--^ 

hadtiin^dt^'^'"  "'^  2---  -hen  he 
frog  gr:S"'^°"^°^"^'"^-«'^  hull. 

"Of  course  dem  got  ears     V„, 
of  U,7i^'  4.<-  •     ^°"  ever  hear 

loo'lc'foreaS'rd^"'""'"^-^-^ 

yet.    YoutaCLtr:   J-^-^'^'-y 

insec'  Uke  c'at  ^  ^'t  '°""'°*  ''^  poor 

"Ke  (.at  wen  hun  could  n'f  h^., 
you  say.  ••  °  *  hear  w'at 

"Doan  bodder  me  "  <=»,»  • 

-^e,     she  impatiently  re- 

bsJ 


1: 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


plied,  getting  angry  at  last,  "or  I  will  t'row 
de  whole  lot  of  dem  'pon  you  to  chill  for  you 
spirit." 

"But  I  tell  you  say " 

Before  Quamin  could  finish  his  sentence 
the  five  frogs  had  slapped  against  his  face 
and  fallen  to  the  ground  and  Quasheba  was 
running  away  as  fast  as  her  little  legs  could 
carry  her. 

He  started  in  hot  pursuit  but  Constantine 
stopped  him,  sajring. 

"Lef  de  gal  alone;  you  is  too  ole  for  such 
foolishnes:,. " 

The  boy  came  back  obediently  and  walked 
the  rest  of  the  way  to  his  grandmother's 
house,  holding  on  to  Constantine's  saddle 
flap. 

Nana  was  pleased  to  see  her  brother  and 
took  him  into  the  house  while  Quamin  led 
the  mule  out  of  range  of  his  godfather's  sight, 
then  jumping  niml  j  on  his  back,  went 
through  a  series  of  wonderful  equestrian 
manoeuvres,  while  his  fate  was  being  decided 
(36) 


Nine  Years  After 


within  the  cottage  where  Constantine  was 
pointing  out  to  his  sister  the  evil  of  letting 
a  big  boy  like  Quamin  roam  around  idle 

;*Him  will  never  come  to  no  good,  sister, 
an  dough  him  doan  know  nofing  'bout 
ammal-cam  even  ride-seein'  as  how  I  bein' 
his  godfather  an'  meek  de  promise  to  de  Lard 
to  teach  him  de  way  of  salvation,  I  will  teck 
him  in  de  place  of  Job  dat  lef  las'  week  an' 
teach  him  de  penn  work. " 

The  old  woman  spent  a  few  seconds  in 
deep  thought,  then,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation 
rephed: 

"All  right,  Constantine,  but  him  mus'  sleep 
home  for  de  firs'  for  him  too  little  to  lef  me 
altogedder. " 

"Him  can  do  dat,  sister,"  replied  her 
brother  rising  to  go  and  weU  pleased  with 
the  success  of  his  mission;  he  was  honestly 
proud  of  his  godson  and  meant  to  keep  the 
vow  made  at  his  baptism  to  the  best  of  his 
abihty.  True,  his  morality  was  not  of  the 
highest  order,  but  this  did  not  militate 
l37] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


against  him  in  the  eyes  of  his  compatriots, 
and  to  the  boy  he  was  a  veritable  hero. 

Quamin  seeing  Constantine  standing  at 
the  door,  quickly  sprang  forward  from  under 
the  sheltering  orange  tree  where  he  and  the 
mule  had  been  taking  a  rest,  and  went  to- 
wards him. 

"How  would  you  like  to  be  pennkeeper 
boy,  Quamin?"  asked  the  man,  as  he  swung 
himself  into  the  saddle. 

"Would  like  it  firs'  rate,  sah,"  the  boy 
returned,  gazing  at  his  godfather  with  spark- 
ling eyes. 

"  Very  well !  Come  to  de  cow  pea  Monday 
marnin'  six  o'clock.     Doan  forget  now." 

Constantine  rode  oflF,  and  Quamin  tiuning 
to  his  grandmother  asked  eagerly. 

"Him  mean  dat.  Grannie?" 

"Yes,  Daniel  Belteshazzar,  you  goin'  to 
work  Monday. " 

The  boy  turned  a  somersault  to  relieve  his 
feelings  of  joy,  while  the  old  woman  turned 
hastily  into  the  house  to  hide  her  emotion. 
[38] 


Nine  Years  After 

To  the  restlessness  of  youth,  this  first  step 
towards  independence  was  an  occasion  of 
pure  joy-to  the  aged  experience  of  his  grand- 
mother, it  was  as  the  first  flight  of  the  little 
bird,  full  of  unseen  dangers,  and  her  loving 
heart  feared  for  him. 


1 


,  f 

i 


[»] 


IV 


Quamin  Goes  to  Work 

IV/IANY  Monday  mornings  had  come  and 
^  '  *  gone  and  Nana,  as  well  as  Quamin, 
had  grown  accustomed  to  the  new  order  of 
things.  Every  morning  at  five  o'clock  the 
old  woman  would  wake  her  grandson,  usually 
by  means  of  a  generous  sprinkling  of  cold 
water  on  his  face,  for  Quamin  slept  well,  then 
when  he  had  wiped  the  drops  from  his  face 
with  the  tail  of  his  shirt  and  struggled  into 
his  trousers,  she  set  before  him  a  cup  of  steam- 
ing sugar  and  water,  and  a  thick  piece  of 
bread,  which  Quamin  ate  while  he  rubbed 
the  sleep  from  his  eyes.  A  hasty  wash  to  his 
face  and  hands  with  the  end  of  a  towel  dipped 
in  the  barrel  of  rain  water,  at  the  door, 
finished  his  preparations  and  off  he  ran  to  his 
day's  work. 

[40] 


Quamin  Goes  to  Work 

This  was  n't  always  easy  or  pleasant,  for 
sometimes  the  cattle  "broke  pasture"  and 
got  into  the  guinea-grass  pieces  which  were  set 
aside  for  the  feeding  of  horses  and  sometimes 
a  steer  which  was  being  fattened  for  market- 
then  It  was  Quamin's  duty,  aided  by  the' 
other  pennkeeper  boy,  Harry,  to  drive  them 
out  again. 

As  this  happened  nearly  always  after  a 
heavy  rain,   the  long  grass  drenched  them 
to  the  skin,  its  sharp  blades  cut  their  hands 
and  innumerable  ticks,  scourge  of  the  tropics' 
climbed  up  their  legs  to  find  a  resting  place 
under  the  scant  clothing  of  the  boys,  there 
to  torment  them  with  aU  but  unbearable 
UTitation  until   the  cattle  were  aU   driven 
out  and  the  grass  piece  gate  shut  and  locked 
against  further  intrusion,  when  they  found 
themselves  at  Uberty  to  take  off  their  soak- 
ing garments  and  aid  each  other  in  exter- 
minatini'  the  enemy. 

Stil'       . ,  life  rather  suited  Quamin  who 
liked         .ty  and  could  never  stick  to  any 
[41] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

one  thing  long;  besides  he  was  naturally 
clever  and  readily  learnt  all  that  Constantino 
taught  him. 

With  Harry  it  was  different.  He  was 
some  two  years  older  than  Quamin  and  had 
been  forced  into  penn  work  by  his  parents 
who  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  earnest  entreaty 
to  be  allowed  to  learn  a  trade  instead.  Nor 
was  he  quick-witted  as  the  younger  boy 
who  soon  ou«lid  him  in  all  branches  of  penn- 
keepmg  knowledge. 

For  some  time  Harry  did  not  seem  to 
notice  this  or  feel  any  resentment,  but  mis- 
chief was  brewing,  and  as  usual,  a  woman 
stured  the  caldron. 

There  were  young  mules  to  be  broken, 
a  difficult  and  dangerous  job.  requiring  no 
mean  equestrian  sk-ill  and  much  pluck,  and 
Constantine  had  warned  the  boys  to  be  ready 
for  the  task  in  the  morning. 

Harry  received   the  intimation  in  glum 
sJence,  while  Quamin.  as  usual,  stood  on  his 
head  to  express  his  delight  and  with  his  naked 
[42] 


Quamin  Goes  to  Work 

toes  pjuekcd  the  hat  from  Harry's  head 
The  latter  turned  and  snatching  «„grily  at 
his  property,  said:  *>/■*' 

"IneverseeaboyHkeyou.Quamin,you 
never  done  w.d  you  poppy-show.  De  fought 
of  w  a  dem  mule  goin'  do  wid  you  in  de 
marmn  ought  to  -nough  to  meek  you  Stan- 
softy  Perhaps,  dough,  is  de  las- time  you 
go  n    Stan    -pon  you  head,  so  maybe  you 

better  meek  debes- of  it." 

Harry  turned  sorrowfully  away  and  Quamin 
jumping  to  his  feet,  called  out. 

"Chow!  you  too  coward.     Massa  up  a'  top 
should  have  meek  you  to  wear  frock  -' 

"You   lie!-  responded   Harry.     "I  doan 
fraid,  but  I  doan  like  de  job.  dat  's  all  " 
Ouamin   laughed   derisively   and    started 

^r  home,  calling  back  to  Harry  as  he  went, 
-o-marra  will  be  de  fun." 

Half  way  to  Nana  Drecketfs  house  he 

Sth   K°rt''  "''"'  °"  ''''  ^^  J^olding 
w>  h  both  hands  her  wide  brimmed  straw 
hat  where  it  lay  on  the  ground  beside  her 
{43] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


"Quamin!  Quamin!  come  here,"  she  called 
as  soon  as  the  boy  came  in  sight,  and  he  ran 
towards  her,  asking  eagerly: 

"Wat  you  got  dere?" 

"Crawb,  able  w'ite  crawb!"  she  replied 
excitedly.  "  I  see  him  come  out  of  him  hole 
over  dere  an'  I  wait  till  him  gone  far  'nough, 
den  I  run  up  behin'  an'  cover  him  wid  me 
hat." 

"  Den  w'at  meek  you  did  n't  teck  him  up 
all  dis  time?"  he  asked. 

"  I  go  to  teck  him  up  in  de  hat,  but  jus'  as  I 
shove  de  hat  brim  so — him  poke  out  one  of 
him  eye  out  of  dat  little  hole  in  de  crown, 
an'  de  way  him  cut  dat  eye  after  me,  meek,  I 
feel  worse  dan  tuppee  [penny  halfpenny] 
wort'  of  puke  physic;  so  I  jus'  sit  down  here 
an'  turn  me  head  so  I  could  n't  see  de  eye, 
same  time  I  holdin'  down  de  hat  wid  me  two 
han'." 

Quamin  laughed,  then  said,  "Let  go." 
Quasheba  obeyed   readily   for   her   little 
arms  were  quite  tired  out,  she  had  squeezed 
[44I 


Quamin  Goes  to  Work 


so  hard  upon  the  hat  to  prevent  the  crab  from 
escaping. 

Quamin  drew  from  his  pocket  a  piece 
string  and  tied  it  round  one  projecting  claw 
which  had  escaped  and  was  waving  wildly 
about  in  the  endeavour  to  seize  its  captor. 
This  done,  the  crab  was  drawn  from  his 
prison  and  carried  dangling  from  the  string 
to  Nana's  cottage  where  the  boy,  in  answer 
to  the  little  giri's  request  for  the  prize,  swung 
it  out  towards  her  and  the  angry  crustacean, 
seizing  Quasheba's  dress,  clung  to  it  despite 
all  her  efforts  to  break  loose. 

"Quamin!  Quamin!  teck  him  off  before 
him  bite  me,"  she  shrieked,  while  her  tor- 
mentor only  laughed  and  said: 

"Well,  w'at  meek  you  t'row  bullfrog  in  me 
face  one  time.?  I  will  teach  you  dat  w'at  dem 
say  is  true,  'saucy  somebody  always  ketch 
trouble.'  " 

"Do  me  good,  Quamin,  teck  off  de  t'ing, 
do, "  pleaded  Quasheba,  and  finally  the  boy 
relented  and  with  a  stick  knocked  off  the 
{431 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


tenacious  claw  which  Quasheba  picked  up 
ard  stuffed  into  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 

The  crab  now  free,  Quamin  swung  it  right 
into  her  face,  at  the  same  time  letting  go  the 
string.  It  fell  to  the  ground  from  whence 
it  was  quickly  reclaimed  by  its  indignant 
owner,  who  turned  up  the  path  leading  to 
her  own  home  without  even  a  kok  at 
her  companion. 

When  she  had  gone  some  way,  Quamin 
called  after  her. 

"Quasheba,  dem  goin'  break  young  mule 
to-marra;  you  want  to  see  de  fun?" 

The  little  girl  swung  round,  all  resentment 
wiped  out  by  this  invitation,  and  answered 
quickly. 

"Yes;w'en?" 

"Wen  cow  milk  done  in  de  mamin'. 
If  you  want  to  see  de  business,  you  better 
come  wid  me  w'en  I  go,  'bout  half  pas' 
five." 

"All  right;  i  will  ketch  here  before  dat 
time." 

[46I 


Quamin  Goes  to  Work 


So  peace  was  restored  and  Quasheba  went 
home  to  boil  and  eat  her  crab,  while  Quamin 
turned  to  his  grandmother's  door,  his  mind 
full  of  to-morrow. 


ill- 


r47i 


Concerning  the  Breaking  of  Mules 

nrO- MORROW  dawned  and  became  to-day, 
■■■  and  long  before  sunrise  the  two  children 
were  making  their  way  to  the  cow  pen, 
where  they  were  soon  joined  by  old  Constan- 
tine  and  Harry. 

The  two  boys  fell  to  milking  while  the 
"Busha"  (overseer),  seated  on  his  mule, 
superintended  proceedings,  Quasheba  remain- 
ing outside  the  railings  of  the  pen  and  trying 
to  make  friends  with  the  shy  little  calves 
that  Harry  and  Quamin,  with  many  a 
"hooshya!"  drove  from  their  mothers'  sides. 
At  last  when  the  three  pails  were  full  of 
frothing  milk,  and  the  boys  had  carried  them 
to  the  htwse,  the  real  business  of  the  morning 
began. 

I48I 


M^M 


"'U.. 


The  Breaking  of  Mules 

The  mules  to  be  broken  were  driven  into 
the  pen  and  amid  wild  excitement  and  much 
halloomg,  lassoed  or  "cast."  as  the  saying 
>s  m  the  Island,  then  tied  to  poles,  where  they 
stood  lashmg  their  tails  and  snorting  im- 
patiently. ■  ^ 

"I  fink  we  will  start  'pon  Dare  Debbil 
Dick.  saidConstantine.  "ashim  is  de  wors'es'. 
Samuel  you  got  de  plantain  trash  and  crokas 
bag  an    de  long  whip?      Bery  well!  tie  de 

cutV°K^;"''''^''"*"°*^°*'gh*-«to 
cuthimbeUy-youunderstan'?" 

"  Ves,  sah, "  replied  Samuel,  and  folded  the 
bags      J         „^,.^^  ^^^  ^^^^^  ^^^  ^_^^ 

of  a  saddle;  then  he  approached  the  tethered 
amma  and  cautiously  slipping  the  bags  upon 

a   on        '"r"''  *°  '''  ^^^"^  -  P'-e  with 
a  rope  around  the  mule's  body. 

At  the  first  pull  that  Samuel  gave  to  the 

rope.  D^e  Devi,  Dick  broke  into  open  rebel! 
hon  and  for  a  few  seconds  it  would  have  been 

hard  to  say  when  his  hind  legs  rested  on  the 
ground,  or  when  they  were  in   the  air;  but 

[49J 


f-ll 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


Samuel  was  an  expert  at  this  sort  of  thing 
and  kept  his  hold  on  the  rope  while  evading 
the  flying  hoofs  of  the  mule. 

"Wring  him  ears!  wring  him  ears!"  called 
the  overseer,  and  Quamin,  burning  with  ex- 
citement and  the  zeal  of  immaturity,  leapt 
forward  and  caught  the  animal's  left  ear. 

This  wringing  was  no  gentle  matter, 
but  it  quieted  the  creature  long  enough  for 
Samuel  to  complete  his  task  and  attach  a 
long  rope  to  the  halter;  then  he  freed  the 
mule's  head  from  the  pole  to  which  it  had 
been  tethered. 

Confusion  reigned.  The  mule  jumped, 
kicked,  and  tried  by  every  device  known  to 
his  species  to  get  away,  but  Samuel  held  him 
fast  while  another  of  the  penn  hands  used 
the  long  whip  to  such  good  advantage  that 
at  last  the  stubborn  creature  stopped  its 
capers  and  settled  down  to  a  steady  gallop, 
round  and  round  in  a  circle  as  wide  as  the 
rope  would  allow,  with  Samuel  the  centre  of 
it,  revolving  on  his  own  axis,  so  to  speak, 
[so] 


^'^^^  White  :^n  1:1^°?  ^^"*^"^-  ^- 

f'-^.  replacing  thlrw-f.      ''  '""'^  "'^  ^^e 

th«  rope  in  aw  '  ''''"^'  '«^^"g 

"Now,  wJc  °oT;:7  """'  ^''^  "-"^ 

forward.  ^'^'  '''''^  9"aniin  sprang 

"Me.  Busha-piease.  sah?" 
Constantine,  knowing  the  ,1. 
-t-ation,    hesitated,    but    0!''"  "'  *'^ 
again  and  he  yielded  °    P'^^''^'' 

side."  "^  "«=^  you  heel  touch  U^ 

*h't^^'r;T?:j---ntw.o„ 

^o^i»gtheendo';h:t:i;''^''^-"^ 

■'^^l  Went  vrell    anj 
behaved  more  "eel  '  tT      "'  ^°^^  ^^-^ 

^-"-^hisgod;:twTsr^"'^"^<^'--. 
^-p-essh.itourg:::~-^"'^"^^ 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


The  effect  was  magical.  With  one  bound, 
Dare  Devil  Dick  had  torn  himself  from 
Samuel's  hold  and  with  head  down  and  hoofs 
in  air,  was  doing  his  best  to  rid  himself  of 
his  unwonted  burden;  but  Quamin  stuck 
fast  and  the  enraged  animal  gave  up  the 
attempt  and  rushed  away  over  the  pas- 
tures under  trees,  over  ditches,  till  he  was 
lost  to,  sight  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  and 
Constantine  turned  an  ashy  face  to  Sam- 
uel, saying,  "God  Almighty!  de  boy  dead 
already. " 

They  went  in  search  of  Quamin,  expecting 
to  find  his  mangled  corpse  by  the  wayside,  but 
no  trace  of  him  could  they  find.  Still  Con- 
stantine rode  on,  the  others  following  on  foot, 
till  they  reached  the  public  road,  where  a  pas- 
ser-by told  them  the  mule  had  passed  him  at 
a  gallop,  the  boy  still  on  his  back. 

While  they  talked,  a  halloo  came  from 
far  down  the  road  and  Constantine's  heart 
leapt  for  joy,  for  here  was  Quamin  jogging 
along  towards  them,  Dare  Devil  Dick  having 


"Jus'  to  de  top  of  dat  hill  ^ 
-e  de  obeahJn  house      „        T"^  ^'""^ 
strong  galloping,  ,J°;'"     ^"^    '^^    'Pon 

^^  door  mouth    v      !?  '''^°'^'"'  ^t 

^---dorn.-dZhtr''" ''"'--• 

to  come  home"  ">'«  «^e  an' meek 

P°°^  beast    asl        T'°"''"^'"^'^'^°rthe 

S^t  a  drink,  after  which  h  2  do       ^"'  '° 

As  for  Quamin,  he  wa    th  '  ^'==*- 

admiring  groun     'u         ?  ""*'""  °^  ^n 

°f  his  ride  again  and  a  '™  '^"  '""^  ^^'^ 

-winded  them  thaf  f"'  ""''  Constantino 
work.  "'''"'"^^"'ne  to  return  to 

IS3l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


Harry  was  the  only  one  to  have  no  word 
of  praise  for  Quamin's  daring;  a  wild  jealousy 
had  taken  possession  of  his  heart,  av.^  to  make 
matters  worse,  Quasheba  had  c;  .nly  called 
him  a  coward  as  well  as  otht-  names  less 
complimentary,  so  when  the  chatterers  were 
dispersed,  he  walked  off  to  feed  the  pigs 
with  a  heavy  scowl  on  his  face. 

Quasheba  spent  the  day  in  following 
Quamin  about  and  at  dusk,  when  work  was 
over,  Samuel,  the  pennkeeper,  declared  his 
intention  of  going  part  of  the  way  home  with 
the  children,  adding  in  explanation  of  this 
unheard-of  step,  that  it  was  not  well  for 
children  to  walk  alone  so  late. 

His  listeners  looked  wonderingly  at  each 
other  and  one  of  them  muttered,  "De  man 
turn  fool  over  dat  boy." 

When  half  way  to  the  house,  the  penn- 
keeper said  to  Quamin: 

"  I  goin'  race  me  mare  Bees  Wing  at  de  Bay 
races  after  Christmas;  you  t'ink  you  could 
manage  to  ride  her  for  me?" 
IS4l 


"Yes  for  true.  You  is  jus' 'bout  de  right 
«-an  I  fink  Constantino  will  len-Jou 
to  me  for  de  free  day."  ^ 

.    "^°°'*^-'   ""^^^y-'   Igoin'tumjockya" 
he  shouted,  cutting  his  usual  capers,  thl 

InZ  T''   '"^""   ''^'^   ^^  let   ^ff  " 
enable  lum  to  walk  quietly  along,  he  plied 

house  came  m  view,  and  with  it  the  road 

fading   :n   another   direction    to    Samuel's 

cottage,  extracted  a  pronnse  from  theZl 

1-per  that  he  would  speak  to  Constanti„   o^" 
the  m™,. „,,,,, ,^,^^^^.^^^^^   - 

hafelai?!"!  't"  '  "'^'^  ^"^^  ^«  -"^d 
have  lam  awake  half  the  night  with  excite- 

men   and  joy;  but  being  black,  his  head  td 

fersLr"'^"^^^^^----"- 


(5Sl 


VI 


OBEAH 

pONSTANTlNE  consented  to  Samuel's 
^^    request,  not  without  a  feeling  of  pride 
in  the  confidence  shown  by  the  pennkeeper 
m  Quamin's  riding,  and  the  boy  himself  gave 
all  his  spare  time  to  the  racer.    When  the 
mare  went  out  to  exercise,  Quamin  was  there 
to  watch  her  start,  and  best  of  all,  when  she 
was  galloped  around  the  local   race-course, 
Quamin  was  on  her  back.    .In  English  riding 
master  would  have  said  that  the  boy's  heels 
were  not  held  close  enough  to  the  horse's 
sides,   but    there  his   criticism    must    have 
stopped,  for  the  young  jockey  sat  his  steed 
perfectly,    and   his    hands  gi.ided  the  fiery 
little  mare  so  skilfully  yet  witl :al  so  gently, 
that  Bees   Wing   knew   he  loved   her.  and 
always  did  her  best  for  him. 
[S6J 


'•^1  .po»  w„  ,„,,  ^d  ,t  4  » "'■ 

bnick  him  pocket  "  "  '"^^ 

plead  for  the  bov  .»^  -1  '™'"'  ""' 

f57j 


^iil 


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1.8 


1:25    ill  1.4     lllll  1.6 


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The  Story  of  Quamin 


milk  the  cows  with  the  grudge  against  his 
more  favoured  rival  seething  in  his  heart. 
At  the  same  time  he  took  a  deep  interest  in 
Samuel's  mare  and  never  wearied  of  listening 
to  Quamin's  eager  recital  of  all  that  went  on. 
"But  de  chiefes'  t'ing,"  said  Quamin  to 
him  one  day,  "is  de  obeah,  an'  dat  Missa 
Samuel  goin'  get  from  Guinea  Bill  Monday 
night." 

"Chow!"  exclaimed  Harry,  "Samuel  too 
foolish  'bout  obeah.  Him  better  keep  him 
money  to  buy  com  for  de  mare,  for  Guinea 
Bill  obeah  doan  any  use. " 

"Hush!"  said  Quamin,  glancing  hurriedly 
around,  "teck  care,  him  hear  you." 

"Since   me   doan   believe   in   obeahman, 
w'at  needs  me  care  if  him  hear  me  or  not?" 
"Since  w'en  you  doan  believe  in  obeah- 
man?" asked  Quamin  in  surprise.   "T'inkyou 
did  ask  me  yesterday  if  Massa  Samuel  not 
goin'  get  obeah  work  'pon  him  mare,  for  if 
dat  doan  done,  him  never  can  win  de  race. " 
"Den  you  didn't  see  dat  it  was  fun  I 
[581 


Obeah 


meckin'  wid  you?"  said  Harry  with  a  little 
forced  laugh. 

Quamin  eyed  his  companion  in  slight  aston- 
ishment, ihen  he  said  solemnly. 

"Better  not  call  obeahman  name  in  vain, 
or  him  wiU  get  vex'  an'  ketch  you  shadder  in 
a  bottle,  den  you  will  stiff  dead  before  Pattoo 
wake." 

Harry  tried  to  laugh  but  Quamin's  warn- 
ing sent  a  cold  chill  through  him;  and  pre- 
tending that  he  had  forgotten  some  duty 
which  must  be  performed  before  Constantine 
came  home,  made  it  an  excuse  for  leaving  in 
a  hurry,  and  before  Quamin  had  time  to  say 
any  more  on  the  subject  of  obeah. 

Monday  night  descended  as  dark  as  the 
darkest  heart  or  deed  could  wish  and  Samuel 
tremblingly  put  five  shilUngs  into  his  pocket, 
and  concealing  under  his  ragged  coat  a  pint 
of  rum,  this  being  the  price  of  Guinea  Bill's 
ministrations,  left  the  house  shortly  before 
midnight  and  took  the  road  to  the  obeah- 
man's  haunt. 

[59] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


Arrived  here,  everything  was  as  still  as 
the  grave,  and  no  gleam  of  light  shone  from 
within  to  give  evidence  of  Guinea  Bill's  vigil. 

As  Samuel  knocked  softly  at  the  door, 
something  whizzed  past  his  face  and  the 
thought  that  it  might  be  an  evil  spirit  sent 
by  its  master  to  see  who  was  at  the  door, 
made  him  bold  to  knock  again  and  whisper 
hoarsely. 

"  It 's  me,  Samuel,  Guinea  Bill,  I  beg  you 
to  open  de  door,  sah." 

His  request  was  granted  and  there  stood 
the  great  magician  himself  holding  a  little 
tin  lamp  high  above  his  head  that  its  beams 
might  fall  on  the  face  of  the  man  outside. 

"Come  in,"  he  said  quietly,  and  Samuel 
entered  the  hut  while  the  wizard  shut  the 
door  and  putting  the  little  tin  lamp  down 
on  the  solitary  table  which  stood  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  seated  himself,  motioning 
Samuel  to  do  the  same. 

With  trembling  lips  and  more  than  one 
halt,  the  man  told  of  his  mare  Bees  Wing  and 
M 


the  intended  race,  ending  his  tale  with  a 

nsrhirh'^™"^"'^<'-^^<>^-'>and 
insure  his  horse  winning  ihe  race. 

When  the  pennkeeper  had  finished,  the 
obeahman  rose  without  making  any       'w 

of  the  hut,  taking  with  hin,  the  little  lamp 

zi:r '-''-'  ^^°-  ^"  ---  -- 

He  had  not  been  gone  many  minutes  when 
a  streak  of  light  flashed  through  the  gloom 
andd     p      red^3,,,,„,^^^.^^^^J     - 

Agan   and   a.am  it   came   and   went   and 

w2;ttr°Thf  ^""^^^-- 

h.^  u        .  ^''"^"^'^-    ^his  was  more  than  he 
hadb  edf„,,„,,^^^^^^^^^^^ 

to  seek   refuge  outside,   but  the  return  of 

ove::r""f'*'^^'^'"p-'-'^*'^-an; 

over-stramed  nerves  enough  to  enable  him  to 
return  to  his  spat  a„^  ■       . 

for  h;.  fi        .  '''^"''e  '"  exchange 

for  h:s  five  shillings  and  bottle  of   rum  a 
sma  1  vial  containing  some  white  fluid,  a  blaek 
bottle  securely  corked,  and  a  round  tobacco 
[6lJ 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


tin,  the  lid  of  which  was  tied  down  with  a 
piece  of  white  cotton  cloth. 

As  he  handed  each  one  to  Samuel,  he  gave 
with  it  full  directions  for  its  use,  saying  in 
conclusion. 

'•Dere  now,  I  done  me  bes'  for  you  an' 
w'en  de  race  is  over,  I  expec'  a  present  of  a 
young  shoat  for  me  sarvices. " 

"All  right,  Guinea,"  said  Samuel,  "if  Bees 
Wing  win,  I  can  well  able  to  give  you  a  pig 
'pon  top  of  de  five  shillin'  an'  de  rum,  for  de 
purse  is  twenty  poun'." 

"  Dat  's  a  lot  of  money,  Samuel,  a  lot  of 
money.  Since  you  gettin'  so  much,  I  t'ink 
I  ought  to  get  a  young  barra  pig  to  match  df 
shoat,  for  it  is  all  frough  de  obeah  I  give 
you  dat  you  horse  goin'  win. " 

Samuel's  face  fell.  The  price  was  already 
enough,  but  he  dared  not  provoke  the  wrath 
of  the  magician  by  refusing  his  demands,  so 
he  said,  "All  right,"  and  vanished  into  the 
darkness  before  any  further  extortion  could 
fall  upon  him. 

M 


himself.     Seeing  fZi  ?  "  ""'""«  '° 

bottle  to  his  Unsdrri.  P""'"2  the 

seemed  eatiXtt/'"'^"'^^"^'^^'-^-h 

days.  won<£;tere  I  """"'"'  "°^-^- 
A  l-„    1  ""^S^""  get  it? " 

soil  JuTa„rhf;  'T  '^^  ^"  -'^  *°  ''■•^ 

visitor  co4  be      °"*°"^"^°^^--ond 

thewattliTair;;^"^:^'-'^*-holei„ 

Samuel's  visit  and  wh       ,       *   *'''-°"ghout 

tl^e   flashlig  t  :mIZ        ""  '^'  "^'^^ 
pennkeeper  ''^   '°   ^^^^  the 

Wat  you  come  for  now?"  tf,»     •      . 

(63] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


such  profitable  client  as  the  pennkeeper  had 
been. 

Harry  was  almost  too  frightened  to  answer, 
but  instinct  told  him  the  way  to  Guinea 
Bill's  favour,  and  putting  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  he  drew  forth  six  shillings. 

The  old  man  was  mollified. 

"Sit  down,"  he  said  more  kindly,  and 
Harry  obeyed,  for  he  had  been  standing  so 
long  that  he  was  tired  out.  After  a  few  min- 
utes of  silence  during  which  Harry  had  ga- 
thered a  little  courage,  the  old  man  urged  the 
boy  to  speak  and  tell  his  errand,  and  Harry 
began. 

First  he  told  of  his  hatred  of  Quamin  with- 
out mentioning  the  name  of  his  enemy,  then 
of  the  proposed  race  and  his  earnest  desire 
that  the  horse  his  rival  rode  should  'lot  win, 
and  lastly  his  hope  that  the  obeahman  would 
help  him  to  this  latter  end. 

The  wizard  listened,  his  small  black  eyes 
aglow,  and  when  the  boy  had  finished,  knew 
more  than  Harry  had  intended  or  desired. 
Nl 


^^r*  "'*""»■■»»  «y".o..ly  give  ™i 

«  luxe,  white  pill.  ^     ^^  S™ 

de'^ij^'v ^'°"  y  °'"°^  "•  »'^'«  '»'<>» 

(651 


The  Story  of  Quatnin 


The  obeahman,  left  alone  once  more,  took 
another  drink  of  rum,  thon  blew  out  his 
lignt  and  got  into  the  rickety  wooden  frame 
with  its  mattress  of  straw,  which  he  dignified 
by  the  name  of  bed,  muttering  as  he  did  so, 

"  Dat  boy  mus'  have  t'ief  dat  money,  for  I 
know  dat  Constantino  only  pay  him  shillin' 
a  week  an'  feedin'. " 


[66] 


VII 


The  Soaring  Calf 


themselves      to     <?!     ^^\J°<=^^y.     betook 

stable  of  a  frie^rl  .,    .  *  ^^'^^^t 

was  iealou  ,/";:!:,  r„7^''^  -''-  ^^e 
to  see  her  unl«  "°  °""  ^""'^^d 

self.  ""'^^^  ^^'^^'-^-d  by  Samuel  hin,- 

-h.mothe/r::;°':rtf"t''°"'^ 

expected  to  live  long  '  "°' 

-•not-l„.i;?/;\-:r-^°''as-week. 
"I- sudden  sickness  .he  teck.Busha.  an- 


1.1 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


is  only  'bout  a  hour  gone  dat  one  gal  pass'a' 
and  tell  me. " 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  have  to  go,  but  I 
doan  know  how  I  goin'  manage  widout  you 
an'  Quamin  too.  You  mus'  come  back  in  de 
marnin,'  you  hear?" 

"All  right,  Busha,  I  will,  sah,  dat  is  to  say 
if  me  moder  doan  dead,  sah,  an'  thank  you 
kindly.  But  Busha,"  the  boy  continued, 
as  Constantine  turned  his  mule  towards  the 
stable,  "I  beg  you  advance  me  two  week 
wages,  sah,  so  as  I  can  buy  a  couple  of  fowl 
to  meek  soup  for  me  moder.  Sorry  to  ask 
you  de  favour,  but  how  she  poor,  me  moder 
might  dead  for  want  of  little  nourishment. " 

Constantine  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then 
his  naturally  kind  heart  prevailed  and  he 
said. 

"Come  up  to  de  house  den,  an'  I  will  give 
you  de  money. " 

So,  when  the  pigs  were  fed  and  a  few  other 
small  duties  attended  to,  Harry  dressed  him- 
self in  his  besi  clothes  and  taking  with  him 
[68] 


•*«  -isht.  .nd  by  Z' J    ?      "'^•^  '" 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


Here  he  perched  until  it  had  grown  quite 
dark,  then  he  slid  nimbly  down  the  tree  trunk 
and  crept  up  to  the  back  of  the  rickety  build- 
ing over  which  he  drew  his  hand  as  far  up  as 
he  could  reach  then  down  to  the  ground.  In 
the  right  hand  comer  he  found  what  he 
sought,  a  loose  board  about,  two  feet  high; 
this  he  lifted  just  a  little  and  decided  that  it 
could  easily  be  dislodged  altogether,  and  also 
the  board  next  to  it. 

This  was  satisfactory,  and  Harry  retired 
once  more  to  the  recesses  of  the  mango  tree, 
there  to  bide  the  hour  set  by  the  obeah- 
man. 

As  the  clock  on  the  Court  House  of  Savan- 
nah-la-Mar  struck  the  hour  of  midnight,  the 
boy  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  bottle  of 
cocoanut  oil,  a  piece  of  bread,  and  a  pen- 
knife; lastly,  he  drew  forth  also  the  box 
containing  the  pill;  then  he  proceeded  to 
undress  and  apply  the  oil  to  his  entire  body. 
This  done,  he  wound  the  chain  round  his 
waist,  securing  it  there,  and  taking  the  pen- 
17'^] 


The  Roaring  Calf 


knife   bread,  and  obeah  piU  with  him  des- 
cended the  tree. 

In  Bees  Wing's  stable  aU  was  quiet,  and 
the  lantern  hanging  on  a  nail  against  the 
boarding    revealed    the  pretty   little   mare 
standing  at  ea.e,  her  head  drooped  in  sleep. 
On  either  stde  of  her  sat  James  and  Quamin, 
who,  secure  m  the  knowledge  that  there  was 
a  stout  padlock  on  the  inside  of  the  door,  were 
snatching    what    sleep    they    could    before 
Samuel,  who  had  gone  into  the  town  to  see 
how  the  bets  were  going,  should  return. 

Removing  the  loose  board  from  the  back 
of  the  stable,  Harry  now  crawled  in,  peering 
around  to  satisfy  himself  that  the  watcher^ 
were  reaUy  asl^p.    He  crept  «p   to  Bees 
Wmg  and  patted  her  softly  on   the  nose, 
then  he  held  a  ^morsel  of  bread  out  to  her 
and  she,  recognising    the    boy.    and   being 
very  partial  to  bread,    took    the   proffered 
p:ece     Just  then  the  chain  came  loose  and 
rattled  to  the  ground,  the  mare  snorted  and 
drew  back,  and  James  and  Quamin  jumped 
t7lj 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


to  their  feet.  Quamin,  making  a  grab  at 
the  figure  standing  there,  seized  Harry 
by  the  wrist,  but  the  sudden  pain  of  a 
stab  made  him  release  his  hold,  and  both 
boys  saw  a  four-legged  animal  dragging  a 
heavy  chain  gallop  to  the  back  of  the  stable 
and  disappear. 

Quamin  nearly  fainted  between  pain  and 

fright. 

"Oh!  Lard  God,  Missa  James,  is  Rowlm' 
Calf,"  he  gasped,  and  James  no  less  terrified 
had  no  consolation  to  offer. 

Quamin  sank  to  the  ground  where  he 
remained,  the  blood  streaming  from  his  arm, 
while  James  crouched  beside  him,  too  fright- 
ened to  move. 

Fortunately  Samuel's  arrival  was  not  long 
delayed,  but  he  had  to  knock  more  than  once 
before  James  could  muster  enough  courage  to 
open  the  door. 

The  pennkeeper,  thinking  the  watchers  had 
been  asleep,  began  to  scold,  but  James  hur- 
rief'ly    told    of    the    encounter    with    the 
[7^1 


The  Roaring  Calf 


Roaring  Calf,  and  his  anger  turned  into 
amazement. 
"Were  is  Quamin?"  he  asked  anxiously. 
"See  him  lyin' down  dere.sah.  DeRowlin' 
Calf  Uck  him  teet'  into  de  boy  arm  au'  him 
mos'  bleedin'  todeat'." 

" Wat  a  fing  now!  Wat  a  trouble  on  me 
poor  boy  now!  Quamin,  Quamin!"  he  called, 
stooping  over  the  boy  lantern  in  hand,  but 
Quamin  did  not  answer. 

"Lard!  Missa  Samuel,  him  dead  already, 
sah, "  ejaculated  James. 

Samuel  set  the  lantern  down  and  ripping 
up  the  blood  soaked  sleeve  of  the  wounded 
boy,  bound  up  the  gash  in  his  arm  with  all 
the  skill  at  his  command  and  a  few  strips 
torn  from  the  tail  of  Quamin's  shirt.  This 
done,  he  brought  water  and  poured  a  few 
drops  between  the  boy's  Ups  and  bathed  his 
face. 

The  disabled  jockey  began  to  revive  under 
this  treatment  and  at  last  sat  up,  staring 
around  him  wildly. 

[73J 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


"Were  me  is?  Wat 's  matter  wid  me?" 
he  asked  fearftilly. 

"You  better  now?"  said  Samuel;  adding, 
"Drink  dis;  it  will  give  you  heart." 

He  held  a  small  tin  cup  to  Quamin's  lips 
and  the  boy  drank  eagerly.  Somewhat 
revived,  his  memory  of  what  had  occtured 
returned,  and  he  examined  his  bandaged  arm 
while  listening  with  great  satisfaction  to 
James's  second  account  of  the  affair,  in  which 
the  Roaring  Calf  had  grown  to  enormous 
proportions,  the  length  of  its  teeth  requiring 
a  yard  stick  to  measure  them. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  in  Bees  Wing's 
stable  that  night;  the  blood  curdling  adven- 
ture through  which  the  two  boys  had  passed 
was  in  itself  enough  to  drive  away  sleep,  but 
what  occupied  Samuel's  mind  still  more  was, 
who  would  ride  his  mare  now  that  Quamin 
was  disabled?  It  was  clear  the  boy  would 
not  be  able  to  do  so,  for  he  had  lost  much 
blood  and  was  too  weak  to  stand ;  so  Samuel 
pondered  the  matter  until  dawn  when  he 
[74I 


The  Roaring  Calf 


went  out  to  see  if  another  jockey  could  be 
found  among  his  many  acquaintances  in  the 
Bay. 

After  the  pennkeeper's  departure,  James 
buUt  a  fire  a  few  yards  from  the  stable  on 
which  he  boiled  water  to  make  coffee,  taking 
a  generous  canful  to  Quamin  with  a  piece 
of  stale  bun  he  had  bought  the  day  before. 
There  was  no  milk  in  the  coffee  but  Quamin 
derived  not  a  little  strength  and  refreshment 
from  the  hot  beverage,  and  even  managed  to 
eat  the  bun.  Then  he  asked  for  the  penn- 
keeper  and  James  told  him  on  what  errand 
Samuel  had  gone  abroad. 

"You  fink  him  will  get  anybody?"  asked 
Quamin  eagerly. 

"I  doan  believe  so,  for  all  de  jockya  engage 

condeoder  horse,  an'  mos'  of  de  boy  'bout 

here  too  heavy  or  too  'fraid  to  ride  race. " 

Quamin  dropped  back  on  the  horse  olanket 

on  which  he  had  lain  throughout  the  night, 

seemingly  quite  satisfied  with  this  answer. 

As  James  predicted,  Samuel  returned  dis- 

l7S] 


,The  Story  of  Quamin 


appointed.  All  who  were  willing  to  ride 
were  too  heavy,  for  though  the  race  was  to  be 
ridden  "catch  weight,"  Bees  Wing's  owner 
had  no  intention  of  doing  any  voluntary 
handicapping. 

"  De  Lard  only  know  w'at  I  goin'  to  do  dis 
day,"  he  said,  throwing  himself  on  a  box  in 
one  comer  of  the  stable.  "Dat  man  John 
Rill  mus'  be  set  a  terrible  powerful  obeah 
for  me,  an'  now  I  jus'  as  good  as  los'  de  race. " 

"Missa  Samuel,  sah,"  came  a  low  voice 
from  Quamin's  couch,  "don't  bodder  you 
head  'bout  it,  sah,  for  I  goin'  ride  Bees  Wing 
if  I  drop  dead  de  nex'  minit." 

Samuel  turned  with  a  start  to  look  at  the 
boy,  but  one  sight  of  his  ashen  face  dispelled 
this  flicker  of  hope. 

"Boy,  doan  talk  foolishness.  If  you  moder 
rise  from  de  dead  an'  come  here  now,  she 
wouldn't  favour  duppy  more  dan  you,  so 
w'at 's  de  use  you  talk  'bout  ride  race?" 

"  Never  min'  if  me  look  like  duppy,  Missa 
Samuel,  me  doan  dead  yet.    I  beg  you  to 

[76i 


The  Roaring  Calf 


meek  James  clean  de  bit  an'  f  ings  for  me. 
an  by  twelve  o'clock  I  get  up. " 

"Bery  well,  Quamin;  me  never  hear  dat 
duppy  ride  race-horse,  but  since  you  min' 
set  'pon  it  an'  I  goin'  los'  de  race  any  fashion, 
you  can  meek  de  trial,  but  if  you  dead  dean 
blame  me. " 

Quamin  lay  back  satisfied  and  Samuel 
turned  his  attention  to  the  mare. 

"But,  Missa  Samuel,"  said  James,  looking 
up    suddenly    from    the    animal's    shining 
flanks  which  he  had  been  busily  polishing 
■you  mus'  has  to  put  strong  obeah  'pon 
Bees  Wmg  you  know,  sah. " 

"Dat 's  de  bery  t'ing  I  goin'  after  now  " 
returned  Samuel;  "but  w'at  meek  you  say 

"You  know  dat  yawse  foot  boy  from  Beau- 
ford,  sah?" 

"De  one  dat  run  'way  from  him  moder 
because  she  say  she  goin'  boil  him  foot  to  cure 
de  yawse?" 

"Same  one,  sah." 

[771 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


"Yes,  I  know  him  well." 

"Bery  well  den,  Missa  Samuel,  dat  boy 
workin'  in  John  Rill  stable  an'  him  say  is 
wonderful  all  de  obeah  Missa  Rill  an*  John 
Bailey  workin'  'pon  dat  animal.  Every  time 
dem  teck  him  out  for  trial,  dem  give  him  a 
pill,  an'  jus'  as  him  come  back  to  de  stable 
dem  lick  a  cordial  down  him  t'roat.  Benny 
say,  not  a  bird  can  fly  faster  dan  dat  horse  can 
gallop. " 

Samual  frowned. 

"  Put  you  elbow  grease  'pon  de  horse  neck, 
me  boy;  dat  is  de  place  too  heavy,"  he  said; 
then  continued  unconcernedly,  "Wat  else 
dem  doin'?" 

"Benny  say  las'  night  w'en  dem  t'ink  him 
was  sleepin',  dem  meek  de  trial  wid  de  basket 
an'  de  basket  give  de  race  to  Canalstick. 
But  me  doan  care  'bout  dat  because  Quamin 
an'  me  did  try  de  basket  for  Bees  Wing  las' 
night  before  de  Rowlin'  Calf  come,  an'  de 
basket  say  Bees  Wing  goin'  win. " 

"Same  t'ing  de  plantain  sucker  say  too!" 
[78I 


The  Roaring  Calf 


exclaimed  Samuel  triumphantly,  %ut  I  doan 
l-now  how  Quamin  goin'  ride,  an'  dafs  de 
truth. 

James  was  silent  and  went  on  cleaning  the 
mare     When  the  last  speck  of  dust   had 
vanished,  he  took  the  brush  and  passed  it  up 
and  o^er  the  hind  quartern  of  the  mare  who 
showed  some  disposition  to  kick;  however 
James  kept  weU  out  of  the  way  of  her  heels 
and  repeated  the  operation  again  and  again. 
J^yourumplin- up  de  mare  like  dat 
.1  f"'^  S^'»«^'-  astonished  and  amioyed 

xt  s  de'cush- I  givin- her,  sah,"  replied 

James.     .Bemiyu,ll  me 'bout  it  how  Missa 

RiUdom.ttoCanalstick,anTfinkImight 

aswelldosowidBeesWing.aldoughIcan't 
say  w  at  de  mare  want  wid  it. " 

"  Dat  to  meek  de  horse  lively, "  said  Samuel 
who  in  truth  knew  no  more  than  James,  bui 
would  not  admit  his  ignorance 

At   twelve    o'clock    all   was   ready,   and 
Samuel  led  the  little  mare  out  of  the  stable, 
followed  by  James  carrying  bridle  and  saddle 
l79] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


and  Quamin  almost  too  weak  to  walk,  but 
full  of  determination  and  dressed  in  his  gaudy 
jockey  suit. 

At  the  race-course  they  found  the  rival, 
Candlestick,  already  installed  under  the  shade 
of  a  spreading  logwood  tree.  They  selected 
the  next  best  tree  and  tied  Bees  Wing  to  one 
of  its  branches,  then  James  threw  down  his 
burden  and  Quamin  fell  rather  than  lay  down 
to  gather  what  strength  he  could  for  the 
coming  ordeal. 

A  crowd  had  already  assembled  and  many 
came  to  examine  th  mare  and  compare  her 
with  her  rival  and  not  a  few  to  find  out  who 
Samuel  had  got  for  jockey. 

Quamin  feigned  sleep  and  so  left  the  an- 
swering of  questions  to  Samuel  who  told  how 
the  boy  had  been  miraculously  cured  by  a 
lotion  of  his,  Samuel's,  concoction,  while 
James  recited  again  and  again  the  story  of 
the  Roaring  Calf,  keeping  a  strict  watch  the 
while  that  no  one  came  near  enough  to  the 
mare  to  harm  her. 

180] 


^"-'^^eup^otLTr'^y  and  the  order 
«"derthe,Lfse^        f?"^'  P'^-ded  to 

James  hoId,-„,  her  head     pt?'°'"'^'""'"^' 
poured  down  hor  tfc       '  *  *^°'"'l'al  was 

-«^''notaS.;jtraT?^'^---«^t: 

^<^«da  was  rubbed  on  h  ''"'"'"«  °^ 

and  lastly  her  hoof,  '  ''^^''^  and  tail, 

and  PI  Jered  S  ,r  T""'  ^^  °^  ^'^t 
«  colour  and  of  an  i!^  °'"r"''  '"^^^  ''l-e 
"My  Godr     t^-      '''"'^^'''«°dour. 

claimed,  holding  his  n~    T   '     ^"'''^  «- 
t°.dogood,sah'       ^''    '^'^"'^■nough 

Strong  obeah  «, 
^-cll."  retumt'saL"r"'^'"'^^-*-ng 
"P  -nd  spat  on  Z     '  "''^  Q"^-"  -t 

-^yforafew^a.dsjr''.*'^""^'^'^ 
--Pe  the  vile  oL/ori??  ''^  ''"^  ^' 

^-ally  the  saddle  wa!?'"^^^- 
and  Quamin  slowlv  1        ."^°"  ^^^  ^'ng 
^ack;  then  they  ll^  T^  "^-'^  "Pon  her 
the  judge.  *°  P^^ent  the  mare  to 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


ceremony  was  soon  over  and  Bees  Wing  and 
her  rival,  Candlestick,  their  noses  covered 
with  hite  handkerchiefs  to  pro.ect  each 
from  ^  ances  of  being  obeahed  by  the  other, 
stood  in  line  beside  the  starter. 

The  garb  of  these  jockeys  was  fantastic  to 
a  degree.  Neither  wore  jackets,  but  shirts  of 
contrasting  colour  to  the  short  trousers  of 
brilliant  hue  which  were  tucked  into  long 
itriped  stockings.  At  all  costs  the  jockey 
must  protect  himself  from  the  chances  of  air 
getting  under  his  clothing  and  blowing  him 
from  his  hors ;,  so,  in  place  of  the  usual  cap, 
a  l.andkerchicf  tied  over  the  ears  and  under 
the  chin  is  substituted. 

The  white  bandape  made  Quamin's  face 
more  corpse-like  than  ever,  while  John  Bailey, 
his  rival,  a  diminutive  negro  man  of  uncertain 
age,  looked  for  all  the  world  like  a  circus 
monkey. 

In  breathless  expectation,  the  eyes  of  th'^ 
crowd  are  riveted  on  the  starter  until  he 
drops  his  flag,  then  away  go  the  horses  glad 

[82] 


The  Roaring  Calf 

P«s  thnce  the  course  not  being  long  enough. 
Candlestick  leads,   and  those  who  have 

■iiiv:,'-:^"''''''^^''^  dorses'::, 

ChofT     ''''^''''''-    Did  n't  I  say  so 
Chow.    Bees  Wing    never    ketch   hi.   to- 

ea.,   l^"^   "^"^''   ''""'^^'^   '^^'^   "ot   so 

wmtu.clean  seew'atyousee.- 
Samue.  glanced  uneasily  at  Quamin's  face 
r   the  jockeys  flashed  past,  but   gathered 

'ookmg  straight  ahead,  appeared  to  be  ur 

eonscio^^of  everything  save  the  ani^LIe 

Once  more  round  the  course  and  yet  again 


the  last  time,  Candlestick 


(83J 


is  still 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


leading  and  Samuel  has  resigned  himself  to 
defeat. 

"Canalstick!  Canalstick!"  shouts  the 
crowd,  and  as  if  in  answer  to  the  call,  out 
flashes  Quamin's  whip,  down  it  comes  on  the 
little  mare's  shoulder,  and  she  is  neck  and 
neck  with  her  antagonist.  On.;  more  cut 
with  the  whip  and  Bees  Wing  has  bounded 
past  the  winning  post  half  a  length  ahead 
of  Candlestick,  whose  jockey  does  his  best 
with  whip  and  spur,  but  his  mount  has  no 
reserve  energy  to  ba  called  forth. 

Amid  a  crowd  of  excited  spectators,  Bees 
Wing  is  led  by  Samuel  up  to  the  judge's 
stand  to  be  declared  winner  of  the  first 
heat,  the  next  to  be  run  in  quarter  of  an 
hour. 

Once  more  under  the  logwood  tree,  Quamin 
slips  to  the  ground  and  seats  himself  with 
his  back  against  the  trunk,  while  James,  bub- 
bling over  with  joyous  excitement,  unsaddles 
and  rubs  dry  the  little  mare;  after  which 
Samuel  administers  another  cordial,  the 
[84I 


""not  rid,  .aother  '    "  '^ 

has  met  Us  match  ^ 

't  IS  no  longer  a  question  of  finesse  hJ     u 
-^-^t  ride  Us  fastest,  for  hteonc 
«    the    winning    post      '/JV°""^°  '""'•e 
forward  and  R.      w      ^^"'^'^^''=^'    shoots 

«e  has  the  advantage;  seeing  this. 
[85J 


tm. 


m 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

Quamin,  grown  desperate,  rises  in  his  stirrups 
and  shouts  to  his  mount, 

"Go  on  Bees  Wing!   Goon!" 

In  gallant  response,  the  little  beast  again 
bounds  forward  and  is  over  the  line  in  front 
of  her  antagonist  and  ready  to  be  led  to  the 
judge's  stand,  this  time  to  be  declared  winner 
of  the  twenty  pound  purse. 

The  judge  is  addressing  a  few  words  of 
congratulation  to  Quamin  when  the  boy 
suddenly  sways  in  his  saddle,  and  before  any 
one  can  realise  what  is  happening,  has  fallen 
to  the  ground  in  a  dead  faint. 

"Him  dead!  him  dead,"  went  up  from  the 
bystanders  who  crowded  round  the  prostrate 
boy  to  the  exclusion  of  any  air,  until  the  judge, 
coming  from  his  stand,  quietly  motioned  away 
the  CTirious  and  sent  a  constable  for  the 
doctor. 

"Heat  and  exdtement,"  this  latter  says 

as  he  bends  over  Quamin  to  sprinkle  his 

face   with  water,  then  a  red  stain  on   the 

boy's  shirt  draws  his  attention.     "What  is 

[86] 


The  Roaring  Calf 


this?"    he    demands  of  Samuel,  as  he  rips 
up  the  sleeve. 

"Is  Rowlin-  Calf  bite  him  dere,  Doctah," 
Samuel  explains. 

"Rowlin-  Calf!"  repeats  the  man  of  medi- 
cme  scornfully.  "  fore  like  a  knife  blade  " 
he  went  on,  examining  the  wound  which  bled 
profusely. 

His  bag  is  soon  brought  from  his  buggy 
where  :t  ever  reposes  ready  for  any  emergency 
some  brandy  given  to  Quamin  who  is  scarce 
yet  conscious,  and  a  fresh  and  more  scientific 
bandage  put  upon  his  arm.  This  done,  the 
doctor  draws  out  his  note  book  and  turning 
to  Samuel,  says: 

"Now  I  mean  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  this 
thmg.  That  wound  was  made  by  the  t  ie 
of  a  penknife. " 

Samuel  shook  his  head  and  cast  a  despairing 

glance  at  his  neighbours  in  protest  at  the 

Bockra's"  incredulity;  then  he  called  James, 

but  the  doctor  was  not  to  be  convinced  and 

the  crowd  dispersed,  wondering,  to  discuss 

[87] 


If-,? 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

the  relative  merits  of  the  Roaring  Calf  and 
penknife  theories. 

Quamin  was  lifted  into  the  cart  which  had 
brought  Harry  down  and  which  good  fortune 
or  the  curiosity  of  the  driver  had  directed 
to  the  race-course.  Samuel  took  a  seat  be- 
side the  driver  and  James  perched  on  behind, 
from  whence  he  covild  easily  lead  Bees  Wing. 

Thus  did  the  little  procession  return,  exult- 
ant and  yet  sorrowful,  for  it  was  clear  that 
Quamin  was  very  ill. 


[88] 


VIII 


Gossip 

TTHE  way  was  long  and  uphill,  and  mules 
at  best  are  slow,  so  it  was  nine  o'clock 
before  the  cart  stopped  at  Nana  Drecketf  s 
cottage  door,  which  the  old  woman  herself 
opened  m  answer  to  Samuel's  knock. 

As  the  light  from  the  lamp  she  carried  fell 
on  the  pennkeeper.  she  started  and  the  lamp 
almost  fell  from  her  hand. 

"Is  him  dead?"  she  whispered  hoarsely, 
before  the  man  had  time  to  speak. 

"Hi!  no,  Nana,  not  dead  exactly,  ma'm,  but 
him  meet  wid  a'  accident.  I  very  sorry,  Nana, 
but  couldn't  be  helped,  ma'm." 

Of  his  excuses  she  took  no  heed,  but  throw- 
ing wide  the  door,  passed  swiftly  out  to  the 
cart  where  Quamin  lay  unconscious  and 
breathing  heavily. 

[89J 


li  II' 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

"  I  did  say  so!  I  did  say  so!"  she  muttered, 
then  turning  to  Samuel  she  demanded, 
"V/'at  meek  you  stan'  up  dere  like  you 
petrify?  You  want  to  meek  de  boy  dead 
out  dere  in  de  cart?  Lif'  him  up  an'  bring 
him  into  de  house. " 

The  men  obeyed,  the  old  woman  leading 
the  way  with  her  little  oil  lamp. 

"Get  out  of  datbed,  you  lazy  ole  debbil!" 
she  shouted  at  Fathe  Dreckett  who,  just 
awake,  was  sitting  up  amazed  at  the  con- 
fusion. He  shuffled  out  without  a  word  of 
protest  and  stood  stupidly  by  while  the  penn- 
keeper  and  his  groom  laid  the  boy  on  the 
bed  thus  left  empty  for  his  reception,  and  as 
briefly  as  they  could  told  the  story  of  Qua- 
min's  misadventure. 

She  listened  attentively,  and  when  they 
had  finished,  said, 

"Wen  you  go  to  de  yard,  tell  Constantine 
to  sen'  to  Whithorn  for  de  doctah  to-marra; 
him  goin'  vaccinate  dere." 

"Yes,    Nana.    Good-night,  ma'm,"    said 
M 


Samuel  meekly,  but  the  old  woman  was  in  no 
mood  to  remember  her  manners  and  had 
already  begun  to  undress  her  charge. 

Her  husband  continued  to  stand  looking 
on,  not  daring  to  ask  a  question,  and  when  his 
withered  old  legs,  which  shot  from  under  the 
short  day  shirt  in  which  he  had  slept,  like 
mahogany  posts  from  under  a  white  canopy, 
grew  weary,  he  sat  down  on  a  salt  fish  box 
and  continued  his  observation. 

"Get  up,"  shouted  his  wife,  "you  lazy  ole 
Be'lzebub!  Get  up  an'  go  make  up  de  fire; 
de  boy  cole  as  lizard  an'  I  mus'  give  him  some 
ginger  tea  or  him  will  dead. " 

"Meek  I  get  me  trousers  firs',"  mumbled 
the  old  man,  and  groping  around  till  he  found 
the  missing  garment,  stole  out  with  it  under 
his  arm. 

Nana  spent  the  night  by  Quamin's  bedside, 

and  at  dawn  Constantine,  filled  with  anxiety, 

came  riding  on  his  mule  to  ask  for  news  of  his 

godson. 

"  He  is  nigh  unto  deaf  an'  if  de  doctah  doan 

[91] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


come  soon,  he  won't  live  t'rough  de  day, " 
his  sister  told  him  reproachfully  though  she 
knew  it  was  an  exaggeration. 

"Is  dat  de  truth,  Nana?  Poor  boy!  poor 
Quamin!"  exclaimed  the  man  whose  affection 
for  his  godson  was  very  real. 

Nana  offered  him  a  seat  and  the  two  sat 
down  to  talk  the  matter  over. 

While  they  were  thus  occupied,  in  walked 
Cousin  'Lizbet'  with  Ruth  Deborah  trotting 
at  her  side,  and  of  course  the  story  had  to  be 
gone  over  again  to  this  new  audience. 

"But  w'at  is  bringin'  Rowlin'  Calf  so 
common  roun'  'bout  now?"  Nana  Dreckett 
inquired.  "On'y  las'  week  I  hear  dat  a  boy 
see  one  near  to  Guinea  Bill  hotise,  an'  de 
very  nex'  day  he  was  strong  'pon  fits  an' 
mos'died." 

"Mus'  be  de  wickedness  of  dis  generation 
growin'  up,"  said  Cousin  'Lizbet',  shaking 
her  head;  "it  is  awful  de  sin  an'  wickedness 
dat  doin'  now  wid  t'iefin'  an'  lyin'  so  common; 
de  Lard  sen'  de  Rowlin'  Calf  as  a  plague  an'  a 
[92I 


Gossip 


warnin'  dat  de  sinners  may  be  warned  to 
flee  from  de  wrat'  to  come." 

A  snigger  from  Quasheba  made  her  grand- 
mother turn  sharply  to  ask, 
"Wat  do  you,  pick'ney?" 
'  But,  Grannie,  dem  doan  worse  dan  in  de 
before  time,  for  I  hear  say  some  of  de  ole 
man  livin'  now  did  know  de  inside  of  prison 
before  dem  wisdom  teeth  cut. " 

Quasheba  sniggered  again,  and  Constantino 
and  Nana  exchanged  glances,  for  they  knew 
she  referred  to  an  incident  in  Father  Dreckett's 
early  life  in  which  the  jail  at  Lucea  had  figured 
prominently. 

Cousin  'Lizbet'  also  knew  to  whom  the 
little  girl  alluded,  and  reprimanded  her, 
saying, 

"Hold  you'  tongue,  pick'ney;  w'at  you  know 
'bout  t'ings  happen  before  you  born?  Dat 
was  different  t'ing  from  w'at  we  talkin'  'bout 
now. " 

A   movement   from   the  bed   drew  Nana 
Dreckett  to  Quamin's  side  and  the  boy  looking 
[93I 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


up  at  her  in  his  first  flash  of  returning  con- 
sciousness, felt  reassured,  and  turning  over 
with  a  sigh  of  content,  fell  into  a  deep,  natural 
sleep. 

So  he  slept  until  the  doctor  came  and  a  brief 
examination  went  to  show  that  Quamin  was 
better,  and  only  needed  time  to  get  quite  well. 

As  he  rose  to  go,  the  doctor  turned  to 
Constantine  and  said, 

"If  I  were  you,  I  would  never  rest  till  I 
found  out  who  s*-ibbed  the  boy.  Roaring 
Calf  is  all  nonsense;  that  wound  was  made 
by  nothing  but  a  penknife. " 

Constantine  scratched  his  head  and  an- 
swered nothing;  the  advice  had  fallen  on  cars 
deaf  to  such  heresy,  except  in  the  case  of 
Quasheba  whose  latent  superstitions  were 
held  in  check  by  unusually  good  judgment. 

That  evening  while  going  a  message  for  her 
mother,  she  met  Harry  and  stopped  to  talk 
over  Quamin's  misfortune  with  him. 

"An'youknoww'at  dedoctahsay,  Harry?" 
she  asked. 

[94] 


Gossip 

"No,  w'at?"  he  answered. 
"Him  say  dat  de  talk  'bout  Rowlin'  Calf 
is  all  nonsense,  an'  it  was  somebody  juke 
Quamin  wid  penknife. " 

A  look  of  terror  crept  over  Harry's  face 
and  Quasheba,  who  was  looking  st-aight  at 
him,  felt  the  knowledge  of  his  guilt  flash  to 
her  instinctively.  For  a  moment  they  stood 
thus  speechless,  Harry  being  the  first  to 
recover  himself. 

"Chow!"  he  said,  assuming  a  fine  air  of 
scorn,  "  how  somebody  can  go  t'rough  boardin' 
up  if  dem  is  n't  duppy?  James  say  de  door 
was  well  lock  an'  de  Rowlin'  Calf  come  from 
behin'  de  stall  dem. " 

"Mfj   doan  know  for  me  never  see   no 
Rowlin'  Calf.    You  ever  see  one,  Harry?" 
"Yes,  I  see  one  one  day  lyin'  down  dead  in 
de  pasture.    Light'nin'  stri'-e  him." 

"W'at  him  Stan'  Uke?"  asked  Quasheba, 
full  of  interest. 

"Him  meek  like  gallawas'  but  him  was  too 
big  to  be  real  gallawas'  so  I  know  it  was 
l95l 


* 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

Rowlin'  Calf  dat  change  himself  into  lizard 
shape  an'  light'nin'  come  an'  kill  him  before 
him  could  turn  back  into  calf." 

" Den  you  nebber  see  one  in  calf  body?" 
"Yes,  one  night  me  an'  Quamin  go  look  for 
de  young  bull  dat  broke  pasture.  It  did 
strong  moonlight  dat  night  and  jus'  as  we 
come  to  de  wall  near  to  Guinea  Bill  house, 
we  see  de  big  black  calf  sit  down  on  de 
wall  wid  him  fire  eye  shine  like  moonie 
[firefly]  an'  him  was  'pon  heavy  singin' 
say, 

'Do  me  bredda  moon,  doan  fall  down  'pen  me. 
Do  me  bredda  moon,  doan  fall  down  'pon  me.' 


Dem  'fraid  for  fire,  an'  if  you  ever  see  one, 
Quasheba,  an'  you  have  a  fire  stick,  t'row  it 
after  him  an'  him  will  run  'way." 

"If  I  ever  see  one  I  would  frighten  unto 
deaf  for  I  hear  say  even  if  dem  doan  touch 
you,  dem  breat'  give  you  fever  an'  fits;  but 
for  all  dat  I  doan  believe  say  dat  is  Rowlin' 
Calf  bite  Quamin." 

[96] 


Gossip 

The  Uttle  girl  nodded  to  emphasise  her 
conviction. 

"You  is  a  little  fool!"  exclaimed  Harry 
wrathfuUy.  giving  her  a  push  which  sent  her 
flying  mto  the  ditch  and  broke  the  bottle  of 
cocoanut  oil  she  was  carrying. 

Quasheba  set  up  a  doleful  howl.  weU  know- 
mg  that  she  would  get  a  beating  on  her  return 
home,  but  when  she  saw  that  Harry  was 
laughing  at  her,  sorrow  changed  to  anger 
her  crying  ceased,  and  picking  up  the  pieces  of 
tne  bottle,  she  aimed  them  with  aU  her  force 
at  the  boy  who  ran  up  the  road  laughing 
loudly. 

At  some  distance  he  sat  down  to  wait  for  his 
pursuer,  whomarched  past  in  dignified  silence. 

"Hi!  Quasheba,  I  sorry  I  broke  de  bottle  " 
he  said  in  apology,  but  the  little  girl  was  not 
to  be  so  easily  appeased. 

"I  hope  de  debbil  ketch  you  to-night  an' 
roas-  you  in  hell,  for  you  doan  better  dan 
Cuffee-foot  dem  heng  at  de  Bay  for  killin' 
de  gal. "  ^^ 

'  f97l 


The  Story  of  Q'--\min 


u-^ 


"Wat  you  mean?"  demanded  Harry 
sharply,  all  his  gaiety  gone. 

"I  mean  say  is  you  an'  not  a  soul  else  dat 
put  knife  into  Quamin. " 

Harry  was  dumbfounded.  How  could  she 
know  that? 

"Who  tell  you  such  a  lie?"  he  gasped 
feebly. 

"  Never  min'.  '~^-'t  is  for  me  business.  I 
will  tell  dat  to  de  constab  when  I  see  him. " 
This  was  all  the  information  he  was  destined 
to  receive  at  present. 

The  little  girl  told  her  mother  the  story  of 
the  broken  bottle  and  as  she  had  expected, 
got  a  whipping,  but  when  her  mother  added 
the  further  punishment  of  no  dinner,  she 
cried  herself  to  sleep  in  a  comer  of  the  room 
and  vowed  vengeance  on  Harry,  the  cause  of 
her  trouble. 


[98I 


IX 


School  Days 

OUAMIN'S  naturally  robust  constitution 
made  his  recovery  very  rapid,  and  with 
returning  strength  came  the  desire  for  the 
work  he  had  grown  to  iove. 

Constantine  came  and  pleaded  for  him, 
but  Nana  was  inexorable;  the  Lord  had 
punished  Quamin  and  herself  for  her  weak- 
ness in  allowing  her  grandson  to  ride  a  race- 
horse  and  now  he  should  sin  no  more,  but 
go  to  school  to  prepare  himself  for  the  great 
"call"  which  was  to  come  to  him  by-and- 
bye. 

For  the  local  schoolmaster,  she  had  little 
respect. 

"Dat  nigger  doan  know  B  from  bull-foot," 
she  would  say  with  a  sniff  of  contempt,  "yet 
(991 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


him  shurance  'nough  to  ask  thrupence  a  week 
to  teach  de  children. " 

So  it  was  decided  that  he  should  go  to 
Negril  where  there  was  a  govemitient  school 
and  Nana  had  a  cousin  living  who  would  board 
Quamin  in  return  for  his  assistance  on  fishing 
days. 

Her  mind  once  made  up,  it  didn't  take 
her  long  to  prepare  her  charge.  His  white 
duck  Sunday  suit  was  carefully  laundered  and 
an  extra  pair  of  blue  jean  trousers  manufac- 
tured out  of  a  pair  of  Father  Dreckett's  half- 
worn  ones,  needless  to  say  without  his  consent 
asked  or  given;  a  new  pair  of  boots  from  the 
local  shoemaker  and  a  new  straw  hat  com- 
pleted the  boy's  outfit;  it  remained  only  to 
cut  his  hair,  and  this  also  his  grandmother 
undertook,  shearing  him  for  all  the  world  like 
a  sheep  with  wool  of  market  value. 

"Wat  kin'  of  penitentiary  cut  dat  you 
grannie  give  you,  Quamin?"  asked  Quasheba 
when  she  saw  him  for  the  first  time  after  the 
operation. 

[lOO] 


Quamin  grinned. 
"She  cut  it  short  because  she  say  de  hot- 
hot  down  at  Negril  more  dan  here  an'  maybe 
me  brains  turn  to  ile  if  me  hair  too  thick. 
Quasheba,  you  sorry  say  I  goin'  "way?" 
concluded  Quamin,  with  a  little  unusual  note 
of  tenderness  in  his  voice. 

"Sorry?  w'at  me  to  sorry  for?"  queried 
the  little  girl  mockingly. 

"Hi!  you  won't  have  nobody  to  play  wid 
w'en  I  gone, "  said  the  boy. 

"Chow!  dere  is  lots  of  boy  lef  if  I  did  want 
to  play  wid  dem,  but  I  doan  like  boy  any 
more,  dem  too  fool.  Gal,  now,  can  wear  long 
hair  an-  dem  brains  is  all  right,  but  boy  has 
to  cut  dem  hair  short  like  t'ief  from  de  jail 
because  dem  brains  doan  wort'  an'  turn  to 
ile  wid  little  bit  of  sun-hot. " 

For  a  moment  Quamin  was  crushed,  but 
only  for  a  moment,  then  he  said  with  the  air 
of  a  philosopher,  "I  always  hear  dat  gal  an' 
puss  is  much  alike,  an'  now  I  know  it  is  de 
truth;  dem  is  de  two  'ceitfulles'  fing  on  earth. 

[lOlJ 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


I  war  goin'  write  you  a  letter  soon  as  I  lam 
how  to  write,  but  I  won't  bodder  again. 
I  gone  yah,  day-day!"  Then  with  a  con- 
descending wave  of  the  hand,  he  turned  to 
leave  her. 

Quasheba  let  him  go  a  few  yards  and  then 
she  ran  after  him.  He  had  baited  his  hook 
well;  a  letter  was  too  rare  a  thing  to  be 
despised. 

"See here,  Quamin,"  she  said,  proferring  a 
large  mango,  "perhaps  dem  doan  has  mango 
at  Negril." 

Quamin,  like  his  forefather,  was  not  proof 
against  such  temptation,  and  peace  was 
restored. 

The  morning  of  departure  arrived  and 
while  the  stars  were  still  shining  brightly  in 
the  heavens.  Nana  Dreckett  and  her  grand- 
son started  on  their  journey. 

It  was  a  good  many  miles  to  Negril  and  an 
early  start  imperative  if  they  wished  to  reach 
the  little  town  by  the  sea  the  same  evening. 

Quamin's  belongings  tied  up  in  a  large  red 

lt02] 


School  Days 


cotton  handkerchief  were  pixced  in  a  tray 
along  with  a  few  bread-fruit  and  plantains 
which  were  intended  as  a  gift  to  the  cousin, 
and  the  tray  deftly  balanced  on  the  old 
woman's  head,  while  over  Quamin's  shoulder 
dangled  from  a  long  stick  the  new  boots: 
economy  and  comfort  requiring  that  they 
should  only  be  worn  on  Sunday  or  other 
celebrations. 

When  mid-day  was  reached  and  the  sun 
at  its  height,  the  pair  stopped  for  rest  and 
refreshment  at  the  house  of  a  friend  and 
resumed  their  journey  eariy  in  the  afternoon. 
It  was  sundown  when  they  passed  through 
the  solitary  street  of  the  little  fishing  village 
and  came  in  sight  of  the  rousin's  house  which 
stood  a  little  apart,  on  a  slight  rising. 

Jehoshaphat,  or  Cousin  Joshy,  as  he  was 
more  often  called,  met  them  at  the  door.  He 
was  a  fine  stalwart  negro,  broad  shouldered 
and  deep  chested,  with  the  rugged  strength 
born  of  many  a  battle  with  the  salt  waves  of 
his  native  shores. 

("03I 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


He  shook  hands  with  Nana  after  helping  her 
down  with  the  tray,  then  turning  to  look  at 
Quamin,  said, 

"So  dis  is  you'  gran 'son.  Cousin  Dreckett. 
Him  favour  you  muchly  an'  is  well  grow  for 
him  age.  How  ole  is  him,  mam?"  he  added 
as  though  not  quite  certain  upon  this  point. 

"Him  jus'  gone  ten,"  replied  the  grand- 
mother, "an'  Constantine  say  him  is  de 
smartes'  boy  him  ever  see;  but  Quamin 
too  love  race-horse,  an'  how  he  is  call  by  de 
Lard  to  be  a  preacher,  I  t'ink  it  butter  to  sen' 
him  to  school  to  lam  readin'  an'  writin'  so  he 
will  be  able  to  teach  de  people  w'en  de  time 
is  ripe. " 

"Ahi!  I  see, "  said  Cousin  Joshy.  "Wellde 
quickes'  way  to  dat  is  to  lam  him  de  fishin' 
business;  readin'  an'  writin'  is  very  good,  but 
it  is  not  needful,  Cousin,  not  needful  in 
truth ;  for  you  remember  how  de  Lard  always 
choose  him  disciple  from  de  fisherman,  an' 
not  one  of  dem  know  how  to  spell  a  puss 
name,  much  less  anyt'ing  else." 
[104] 


School  Days 


Nana  pondered  the  matter  a  moment,  then, 
as  if  a  sudden  decision  had  been  borne  in  upon 
her,  said, 

"Well,  de  boy  can  lam  de  two  fings: 
readin"  an"  writin'  at  de  school  in  de  marnin' 
an'  de  fishin'  business  wid  you  after  dat." 

Here  the  wife  of  Cousin  Joshy  made  her 
appearance  and  rushing  at  Nana,  threw  her 
arms  around  her  neck  and  kissed,  with  loud 
smacks,  the  thin  cheeks  of  the  older  woman. 
"Cousin  Dreckett,  it  is  more  dan  five  year 
since  I  see  you,  an'  I  glad  so  tell!" 

"Yes,  Rose-Mary,"  replied  Nana,  "it  is 
gone  five  year  since  I  see  you  an'  you  have 
wax'  fat  in  de  time.  Look  as  dough  fish  an' 
salt  water  'gree  wid  you  constitution. " 

Rose-Mary  giggled.  It  was  a  compliment 
to  be  told  that  she  had  grown  fat,  and  was  a 
proof  of  her  opulence. 

"  How  come  it  dat  you  is  so  mauger,  Nana?  " 
she  asked  in  return. 

"Because  I  belong  to  de  lean  kin'  dat  you 
read  'bout  in  de  Book;  dere  is  bot'  fat  an' 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


lean,  an'  de  Lard  sen'  his  rain  upon  bot'  jus' 
de  same.  Come  here,  Quamin,  an'  meek  you 
bow  to  you  cousin." 

But  Quamin  was  busy  exchanging  grimaces 
with  a  little  negro  of  about  his  own  age,  who, 
from  behind  the  shelter  of  the  kitchen  door, 
was  taking  stock  of  all  that  went  on.  The 
second  call,  however,  reached  him  and  he 
came  up  to  his  grandmother's  side. 

"Put  you  han'  'pon  you  belly  an'  meek  a 
bow,"  she  commanded,  and  Quamin  obeyed 
literally,  at  the  same  time  drawing  the  right 
foot  as  far  behind  the  left  one  as  it  would  go. 

"Howdie!"  said  Rose- Mary,  as  her  eyes 
measured  the  boy's  proportions  and  her  mind 
weighed  his  eating  capacity.  She  was  not 
altogether  in  favour  of  this  new  addition  to 
the  family  circle,  and  had  only  consented  to 
let  the  boy  come  when  her  husband,  who 
put  little  faith  in  learning,  had  promised 
that  her  son  should  share  Quamin's  education- 
al advantages. 

"Is  de  dinner  ready.  Rose- Mary?"  asked 
[106] 


School  Days 


Joshy,  and  in  reply  the  mistress  of  the  house 
went  out  to  the  kitchen  to  give  the  pot  of 
callaloe  soup  a  last  stir,  then  she  lifted  it 
from  the  fire  and  placing  it  on  the  kitchen 
table,  which  was  almost  as  black  as  the  pot 
itself,  proceeded  to  ladle  out  the  contents 
into  a  row  of  soup  plates;  these  she  set  on  a 
wooden  tray  and  returned  with  them  to 
the  house. 

Rose-Mary  was  no  pattern  housekeeper 
and  deemed  the  setting  of  a  dinner  table  a 
useless  labour,  so  the  soup  plates  were  distri- 
buted to  the  company  where  they  sat  or 
stood,  Abijah  and  Quamin  choosing  the 
door-step  as  their  vantage  ground. 

The  soup  was  savoury,  and  to  the  weary 
travellers  most  refreshing  though  to  Quamin 
it  was  a  surprise  to  learn  that  the  salt  pork 
with  which  the  soup  had  been  seasoned  was 
for  the  elders  only,  and  the  youngsters  must  be 
satisfied  with  what  they  could  get  of  vege- 
tables, or  bread-kind,  as  th  se  are  called  on  the 
Island.  This  was  something  new  to  the  boy 
I107] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


who  had  always  been  used  to  sharing  with 
his  grandmother  the  best  that  she  had. 

When  the  plates  were  emptied,  Rose-Mary 
collected  them  and  returning  them  to  the 
tray,  told  Abijah  to  go  and  wash  them,  as 
Fibba  his  sister  would  not  retiuTi  until  late 
that  night. 

Abijah  obeyed,  and  invited  Quamin  to 
assist. 

The  washing  was  carrier  on  outside  the 
kitchen,  and  while  they  worked,  Abijah 
regaled  Quamin  with  an  account  of  the  cap- 
ture of  a  shark.  "An'  look  here,  Quamin,  as 
dem  lif  him  out  of  de  water,  him  tail  jus' 
fly  pas'  me  so — "  said  he,  illustrating  by 
a  wave  of  his  hand  which  sent  the  plate 
he  had  been  wiping  spinning  to  the  ground, 
where  it  lay  in  fragments,  tne  two  boys  staring 
at  it  in  horrified  silence. 

Hearing  his  mother  approaching,  Abijah 
recovered  himself  and  shouted, 

"Puss!  Puss  you!  Oh!  Lard,  but  w'at  a' 
animal  bad." 

[108] 


School  Days 


Quamin  could  scarce  restrain  a  grin  at 
this  bold  attempt  to  saddle  the  accident  on 
to  the  poor  half-starved  little  brindle  cat 
which  had  been  sitting  near  the  boys  in  the 
vain  hope  of  a  stray  piece  coming  her  way. 
The  shouts  of  Abijah  alarmed  her  and  she 
fled,  but  Rose- Mary  was  not  in  the  least 
deceived:  she  knew  well  that  the  nine  lives  of 
a  cat  were  none  too  many  for  the  weight  of 
LJame  it  was  often  made  to  carry. 

"No  use  you  'cuse  de  puss,  for  she  doan  got 
han'  to  lif  up  plate,  yah!"  she  said,  pick- 
ing up  a  stick  which  lay  in  her  path,  but 
Abijah  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  and  being 
too  fat  for  violent  exercise,  his  mother  had  to 
content  herself  with  sending  after  him  a 
volley  of  threats,  and  set  about  cross-ques- 
tioning Quamin. 

"How  come  Abijah  to  broke  dat  plate?" 
she  asked,  and  Quamin  hung  his  head. 

"I  don  know,  ma'm,"  he  replied,  "de  puss 
was  here  an' " 

"Oh!  chut,"  she  interrupted.    "Doan  mix 
[109I 


t  ^: 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


up  dc  puss  name  in  de  affair  at  all,  but  tell 
de  truth. " 

But  Quamin  was  loyal  if  not  truthful,  and 
to  all  her  questions  gave  the  same  unsatis- 
factory answer. 

Bed-time  comes  early  in  the  tropics,  and 
with  the  negro  "early  to  bed  and  early  to 
rise"  is  a  motto  universally  practised.  Now 
Cousin  Joshy's  house  contained  but  two 
rooms:  the  sitting-room  or  hall,  as  it  was 
called,  and  a  bedroom  at  the  back  where  the 
family  slept;  so  a  few  sacks  were  spread  in  a 
corner  of  the  hall  for  the  master  of  the  house, 
while  Nana  took  his  place  in  the  small  wooden 
four-poster  beside  Rose-Mary,  under  which 
the  two  boys  crept  to  sleep  as  only  little 
niggers  can. 

With  daylight  the  household  was  once 
more  astir  and  Abijah  took  Quamin  to  the 
sea-shore  to  see  the  seine  hauled  in.  Here  he 
was  the  observed  of  all  observers,  and  the 
little  naked  boys  who  dived  under  to  release 
the  net  whenever   it   should  get  caught  on 


[no] 


School  Days 


the  rocks  came  out  of  the  water  all  wet 
and  shiny  to  see  Abijah's  cousin  from  the 
mountains. 

When  the  catch,  which  after  all  was  no  great 
one,  consisting  chiefly  of  very  small  and 
brightly  coloured  fishes  and  some  eels,  was 
safely  landed  and  divided  among  the  crowd 
who  gathered  to  watch  proceedings,  Abijah 
proposed  a  swim,  to  which  Quamin  eagerly 
consented,  though  he  had  never  before  bathed 
in  anything  bigger  than  a  pond.  Abijah,  on 
the  contrary,  rivalled  the  fishes  and  cut  all 
sorts  of  capers  in  the  water,  to  the  astonish- 
ment and  ("im-'r /ion  of  the  boy  from  the 
mountains. 

When  they  returned  to  the  house,  Rose- 
Mary  was  just  sharing  out  the  first  repast  of 
the  morning  consisting  of  a  beverage  of  new 
sugar  and  hot  water  and  some  slices  of  bread- 
fruit heated  on  the  gridiron. 

Fibba  had  also  returned  and  was  seated  on 
a  stone  by  the  kitchen  door  holding  her  can 
of  "tea"  in  one  hand,  with  the   other   rc- 
[III] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


straining  the  cat  who  sought  to  share  her 
meal.  She  was  an  ordinary  looking  little  black 
girl  whose  scanty  crop  of  wool  had  been 
divided  into  four,  like  the  markings  on  a  hot 
cross  bun,  each  section  plaited  so  tightly  that 
it  was  a  wonder  the  roots  endured;  a  quiet, 
peace-loving  little  creature  with  only  the 
average  share  of  intelligence,  and  Abijah's 
slave,  ready  to  fetch  and  carry  for  the 
big  brother,  deeming  submission  the  whole 
duty  of  woman.  Unfortunately,  Abijah 
often  abused  this  devotion,  and  teased  her 
unmercifully.  She  looked  up  quickly  as 
the  two  boys  came  round  the  comer  of 
the  house  but  remained  quietly  on  her 
seat. 

"Hi!  Fibba,  why  meek  you  didn't  come 
home  las'  night?"  inquired  her  brother. 

"Because  Grannie  say  she  didn't  have 
nobody  to  sen'  wid  me  an*  I  could  n't  come 
me  so-so  one." 

"  'Fraid,  eh?"  inquired  Abijah. 

"Yes,"    candidly   owned    the   little   girl, 

[112] 


School  Days 


"dem  duppy  w'at  live  at  seaside  is  de  wors'es* 
kin',  an'  I  'fraid  to  meet  one. " 

Abijah  laughed  and  Quamin  chimed  in 
with  his  opinion  of  the  dangers  of  Roaring 
Calves  and  duppies  in  general  and  the  question 
was  discussed  between  the  three,  Fibba  for- 
getting her  shyness  in  the  absorbing  interest 
of  the  theme,  until  Nana  Dreckett  called 
Quamin  to  get  dressed  for  school. 

The  two  boys  were  taken  into  the  room 
where  they  were  scrubbed  and  dressed,  then 
turned  loose  with  the  admonition  to  "teck 
care  an'  not  dirty  you'self." 

At  eight-thirty  the  party,  consisting  of 
Quamin  and  his  grandmother,  Rose-Mary 
and  her  son  and  daughter,  set  out  for  the 
schoolhouse  which  stood  on  a  hill  ten  minutes' 
walk  from  Cousin  Joshy's. 

From  every  direction  streanisd  children  of 
all  ages  and  sizes,  for  the  negro  is  not  slow 
to  avail  himself  of  the  free  education  offered 
by  the  government  to  all  under  fourteen 
years  of  age,  and  the  little  band  did  credit 
tii3l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


to  their  parents,  for  all  were  neat  and  clean 
and  many  were  well  dressed. 

Arrived  at  the  schoolhouse,  they  filed  in: 
the  old  scholars  to  their  respective  places, 
the  new  to  a  bench  at  the  door,  there  to 
await  the  teacher's  decision  as  to  where  they 
should  be  placed. 

To  Quamin  there  was  something  like 
solemnity  iu  the  occasion  and  he  longed  for 
the  lessons  to  begin  that  he  might  the  sooner 
keep  his  promise  to  Quasheba;  while  to  Abi- 
jah,  the  whole  thing  was  a  grand  picnic  which, 
so  far,  he  had  found  very  amusing.  For 
learning  he  had  neither  desire  nor  aptitude, 
and  the  only  call  which  appealed  to  him  was 
the  call  to  meals.    Abijah  was  pure  animal. 

Leaving  the  boys  with  many  instructions 
as  to  behaviour,  the  two  women  turned  home- 
wards with  Fibba  trotting  beside  them. 

The  little  girl  was  very  quiet  and  a  close 

observer  might  have  detected  tears  shining  in 

her  big  brown  eyes.    She  longed  to  remain 

behind  with  the  boys  and  learn  to  read  too, 

[I  Hi 


School  Days 

but  the  idea  of  education  being  necessary  to 
girls  as  well  as  boys  had  not  yet  penetrated 
Rcse-Mary's  mind. 

When  the  others  had  gone  into  the  house. 
Fibba  chose  a  quiet  spot  under  the  shade  of  a 
large  tree,  and  taking  Miss  Elsie  in  her  arms 
poured  out  her  woe  to  the  httle  animal  who 
seemed  to  understand  that  its  mistress  was 
unljappy  and  sought  to  console  her  by  rub- 
bing itself  against  her  little  tear-stained  face, 
mewing  feebly  the  while. 

Fortunately  for  the  child's  peace  of  mind, 
a  solution  of  the  difficulty  was  near  at  hand 
for  Quamin  proved  an  apt  scholar  and  gladly 
passed  on  to  her  the  knowledge  gained  at 
school  as  quickly  as  he  acquired  it. 


fnsi 


The  Passing  of  Father  Dreckett 

AFTER  a  \ --at  of  a  few  days,  Nana  went 
home  alone,  missing  her  grandson 
sorely,  but  unselfishly  determined  to  give 
him  every  advantage  in  her  power;  but  unfor- 
tunately her  charity  did  not  extend  to  Father 
Dreckett,  who  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  her 
sufferings  in  added  persecution  so  that  the 
lines  in  his  withered  old  face  deepened  and 
his  walk  became  more  than  ever  slouchy  and 
dejected,  until  at  last  it  stopped  altogether. 

The  old  man  was  no  longer  able  to  drag 
himself  up  and  down  between  the  hous3  and 
kitchen,  but  sat  on  the  door-step  of  the  former, 
his  short  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  old  hat 
drawn  low  over  his  eyes,  and  an  expression 
like  that  of  the  Sphinx,  utte  ,7  incomprehen- 
uble. 

[1161 


The  Passing  of  Father   Dreckett 

Now  that  he  was  almost  helpless,  Nana's 
manner  softened  a  little  and  she  saw  to  it 
that  neither  his  stomach  nor  the  Uttle  pipe 
went  long  empty. 

One  morning,  when  she  returned  from  a 
foraging  expedition,  she  found  the  old  man 
sitting  propped  up  against  the  door-post,  the 
pipe  gone  from  between  his  Ups.  Thinking 
he  slept,  and  fearing  that  he  might  faU 
down  the  steps  and  be  hurt,  she  took  him 
by  the  shoulder  and  with  a  gentle  shake, 
said, 

"Fader  Dreckett!  Fader  Dreckett,  wake 
up,  you  hear?" 

But  Father  Dreckett  did  not  hear,  and 
stooping  to  peer  into  the  face  screened  by 
the  battered  old  hat,  Nana  looked  into  the 
half-open  eyes  of  her  dead  husband.  Throw- 
ing her  apron  over  her  head,  she  fled  in  the 
direction  of  Cousin  'Lizbet's  cottage. 

"Pear   not.   Nana,   fear   not!"   said   the 
prophetess  as  she  walked  by  the  widowed 
woman  back  to  the  house  of  death,  "de  Lard 
[117] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


giveth  an'  de  Lard  taketh  away  again,  blessed 
be  de  name  of  de  Lard. " 

"Cousin  'Lizbet',"  sobbed  Nana,  "him  is  a 
blessed  angel  in  Heaven  dis  minit,  an'  I  glad 
for  dat;  but  how  I  can  do  widout  him?  For 
forty  year  we  live  togedder  an'  now  he  is  gone. 
Lard  have  mercy  upon  me!" 

Arrived  at  the  house,  the  two  women 
lifted  the  emaciated  frame  on  to  the  bed  from 
which  the  living  man  had  once  been  driven  to 
make  room  for  Quamin,  and  preparations  for 
the  washing  of  the  corpse  were  soon  under 
way. 

Quasheba  had  been  despatched  to  tell  the 
news  to  Constantine,  and  on  the  way  had 
distributed  it  broadcast  to  the  whole  coimtry- 
side,  so  that  by  the  time  the  Busha's  mule 
stopped  at  Nana  Dreckett's  door,  the  little 
house  was  already  full  of  visitors,  all  strug- 
gling to  get  a  close  look  at  the  dead  body  of 
the  man  with  whom  in  life  they  had  had 
little  to  do. 

Nana  sat  by  the  corpse  with  her  apron  over 

[Il8] 


The  Passing  of  Father  Dreckett 

her  head,  swaying  herself  back  and  forth  and 
waihng.   "Oh!  me  poor  husban'   dead  an' 
gone  from  me.     De  bes'  man  anybody  ever 
see     Fader!  Fader!  Wat  I  goin' to  do  widout 
you?     while  Cousin  'Lizbef  standing  beside 
her,  murmured  scraps  of  Biblical  verse,  such 
as.     Vengeance  is  mine  saith  the  Lord     I 
w,ll  repay_I  will  repay."  adding.  "Remem- 
ber dat.  my  sister,  an'  be  comforted. "  and  it 
was  thus  that  Constantine  found  them  when 
he  entered. 

"  An'  poor  Quamin  so  far  away. "  exclaimed 
Nana  to  her  brother.     "I  doan  know  how  he 
will  be  able  to  come  to  de  funeral.  " 
^    "I  wiU  see  to  dat."  answered  Constantine. 
I  will  sen'  a  messenger  to  Cousin  Joshy 
nght  off.  an-  if  dem  want  to  come  to  de 
funeral,  dem  can  walk  aU  night  an'  get  hero 
by  ten  o'clock  to-marra  mamin'.    Parson 
Blackgroye  too.  mus' be  notify.    De  funeral 
better  be  bout  two  o'clock,  eh.  Sister?  " 

"Yes.  dat  is  de  time  dem  mostly  bury  " 
answered  the  widow  in  crushed  tones.         ' 
("9l 


it' 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

Constantine  produced  a  foot  rule  from  his 
pocket  and  measured  the  corpse;  then  he 
drew  from  under  the  bed  some  large  cedar 
boards  which  had  lain  in  hiding,  waiting  for 
just  such  an  emergency  as  this.  These,  with 
the  help  of  one  of  the  spectators  he  carried 
outside  and  gave  in  charge  of  the  carpenter 
who  had  accompanied  him,  with  directions 
for  the  making  of  the  coffin,  then  mounting, 
he  rode  qxuckly  home  to  despatch  the  mes- 
senger to  Cousin  Joshy. 

Harry,  the  one  selected,  was  soon  in  the 
saddle  and  galloping  away  in  hot  haste  to- 
wards Negril,  with  the  sad  news. 

The  sun  had  set  when  he  arrived  there  and 
Cousin  Joshy  and  family  just  finishing  the 
evening  meal. 

Quamin  recognised  his  godfather's  mule 
first,  and  then  the  rider,  and  bounding  to- 
wards them,  asked  in  hot  haste, 

"Wat  bring  you  here,  Harry?" 

"You'  gran 'fader  dead  an'  dem  sen'  me 
come  tell  you.  You'  gran'moder  want  you  to 
[120] 


The  Passing  of  Father   Dreckett 

start  right  off  an-  come  to  de  funeral,"  was 
the  answer. 

"Wat  de  boy  sayin'?"  inquired  Cousin 
Joshy  coming  forward,  but  Quamin,  quite 
overcome  by  this,  his  fiist  near  acquaintance 
with  aeath,  could  only  stand  gaping  in  wonder 
while  Harry  rephed  to  the  question. 

"So  de  ole  man  die  dis  mamin'!"  said 
Cousin  Joshy,  taking  off  his  hat  and  scratch- 
ing his  head.  "Wen  is  de  buryin'?"  he 
inquired. 

"At  two  o'clock  to-marra.  sah."  replied 
Harry  and  the  man  reflecting  for  a  moment, 
turned  to  Rose-Mary  who  had  by  this  time 
joined  the  group,  and  said, 

■'De  shop  cart  goin'  to  de  Bay  to-night 
an  we  could  get  a  drive  in  it  as  far  as 
oat. 

The  thought  of  such  an  outing  delighted 
Rose-Mary  and  the  children  who  jumped  for 
joy,  all  except  Quamin,  stiU  a  little  sobered 
by  his  recent  bereavement,  and  when  the 
shop  cart  set  out  on  its  journey  at  one  o'clock 

[121] 


The  Passing  of  Father  Dreckett 


in  the  morning,  the  party  of  mourners  were 
promptly  on  hand. 

"Wat  you  carryin',  Fibba?"  asked  Abijah, 
pointing  to  a  paper  parcel  of  queer  shape  that 
the  little  girl  had  under  her  arm. 

"Neber  min';  dat  is  for  me  business,"  said 
his  sister  crossly,  turning  her  back  on  him. 

"Come  meek  we  see,"  whispered  Abijah 
to  Quamin,  and  creeping  up  behind  the  child, 
he  pinched  the  parcel.  A  dismal  wail  issued 
from  it  and  the  boy  jumped  back  in  aston- 
ishment, then  broke  into  wild  laughter. 

"Oh!  my  Fader,  Quamin,  she  got  de  puss 
meek  up  into  parcel. " 

Quamiii  joined  the  laughter  and  ventured 
to  express  some  fears  for  the  cat's  safety, 
to  which  the  little  girl  replied, 

"  Chut !  how  him  can  stifle  w'en  I  cut  hole 
in  de  paper  jus'  close  to  him  nose?" 

"Him  dead  already,"  kin  /  suggested 
Abijah. 

"If  him  dead  how  him  could  bawl — eh? 
Tell  me  dat  now,  Missa  Wiseman. " 

[122] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


The  word  to  embark  came  to  put  an  end 
to  further  discussion,  and  Fibba  mounted 
into  the  cart  still  clinging  to  her  treasure, 
which  was  becoming  restless  and  soon  had 
broken  away  out  of  its  paper  prison. 

'■W'at  you  doin-  wid  de  puss,  pick'ney/" 
asked  her  father  as  the  oafs  head  came  to 
view. 

"I  teckin-  her  wid  me,  puppa,  because  she 

gom  todieifllef-heraloneindehousc- 
Trow  away  dat  puss  dis  minit,"  com- 
manded  Rose-Mary.  "You  fink  say  Nana 
Dreckett  will  fenk  you  to  bring  such-like 
msec^  to  her  house?  T'row  it  away.  I  tell 
you.  she  repeated,  as  Fibba  seemed  incUned 
to  disobey. 

The  little  girl  began  sobbing  but  clung  to 
ner  treasure. 

"Give  it  to  me  here,"  said  the  woman, 
losing  patience. 

"I  will  t'row  it  away  for  you.  Cousin," 
volunteered  Quamin  who  sat  next  the  Uttle 
gwl-       Give  me  de  puss.  Fibba. " 
("3) 


The  Passing  of  Father  Dreckett 


He  snatched  the  cat  from  her  arms  and  the 
little  girl  screamed  as  she  thought  she  heard 
a  thud  in  the  wayside  bushes. 

"  Me  poor  little  puss  goin'  starve  to  d.-at', " 
she  wailed,  until  a  dig  from  Quamin's  elbow 
made  her  stop  inquiringly. 

"Hush!  you  hear,  '^oan  cry  for  I  got  you' 
puss  inside  me  jacket." 

"T'enkG^rt'  sighed  Fibba.  "Meek  me 
feel  him." 

"See  here,"  said  Quamin  taking  hold  of 
her  outstretched  hand  and  gmding  it  into 
the  recesses  of  his  jacket. 

Thus  reassured,  the  child,  weary  with 
excitement  and  late  hours,  fell  asleep  in  the 
bottom  of  the  cart,  and  soon  her  exa-nple 
was  followed  by  the  entire  party  who  slept 
undisturbed  by  the  noisy  cracking  of  the 
driver's  whip  or  the  jolting  of  the  spiingless 
cart  in  and  out  of  ruts. 

It  was  just  daylight  when  it  came  to  a 
standstill  before  the  door  of  a  small  store  in  the 
Bay  where,  still  in  a  semi-somnolent  condition, 
["4l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


they  dismounted  and  followed  Rooc-Mary 
into  the  shop  which  was  owned  by  one  of  her 
many  cousins. 

Hei'e  they  were  made  welcome  and  re- 
freshed, partly  from  their  own  store  and 
partly  from  the  cousin's;  after  which  fortune 
favoured  them  once  more  with  another  empty 
cart  which  took  them  to  within  a  mile  of 
Nana's  cottage. 

Quamin  was  aU  excitement  for  it  was  a 
year  since  he  had  been  home,  and  there  was 
an  added  thrill  in  the  thought  of  the  dead 
body  lying  there.  He  had  never  learned  to 
love  his  grandfather,  feeUng  intuitively  that 
he  was  looked  upon  as  an  encumbrance  by  the 
old  man,  stiU  Father  Dreckett  was  one  of  his 
earliest  memories,  and  had  never  been  actively 
hostile,  and  now  death  had  wiped  out  all 
remembrance  of  any  fancied  injuries  wUch 
Quamin  had  at  one  time  entertained. 

Another  passage  of  arms  between  Rose- 
Mary  and  Fibba  had  taken  place  when  the 
former  found  how  she  had  been  tricked;  but 


The  Passing  of  Father   Dreckett 

Quamin,  who  by  his  quickness  and  willing 
ways  had  won  her  approbation,  begged  to 
be  allowed  to  take  the  animal  as  a  present  to 
his  grandmother,  assuring  Rose-Mary  that 
the  old  woman  would  greatly  prize  the  gift. 

He  was  the  first  to  reach  the  house  bearing 
in  his  arms  the  poor  little  bone  of  contention 
and  closely  followed  by  Fibba  and  Abijah. 

When  her  grandson  appeared  on  the  thresh- 
old, Nana  Dreckett  rose  to  meet  him. 
Throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck,  she 
began  anew  her  violent  lamentations  and 
soon  the  whole  assembly  were  bearing  her 
company,  creating  a  scene  not  unlike  that  of 
the  lost  souls  in  Hades  pictured  by  Goethe  in 
his  Fausl. 

The  children  followed  the  lead  of  their  elders, 
and  the  cat,  terrified  by  the  uproar,  added 
her  quantum  to  it,  being  with  diffictdty  re- 
strained by  Quamin  from  vanishing  through 
the  open  door. 


[136] 


XI 


The  Funeral 

FN  the  middle  of  the  floor  the  coffin  rested 
on  two  chairs  and  in  it  lay  the  old  man  in 
such  lifelike  semblance    that  his  grandson 
started  back  a  step. 

The  corpse  was  dressed  in  the  suit  which 
Father  Dreckett  had  worn  to  his  grandson's 
chnstening,  the  pockets  having  been  carefully 
sewn  up  that  the  departed  spirit  might  get 
no  money  to  return  to  earth.    The  black 
beaver  hat  was  on  his  head  and  his  claw-like 
old  hands,  encased  in  white  cotton  gloves 
several  sizes   too  large,  were  folded  on  his 
breast  and  on  his  feet  were  a  pair  of  patent 
leather  pumps. 

"Him  mus'  go  before  him  Maker  in  him 
very  best."  said  Nana  as  she  gave  orders  to 
the  carpenter  to  aUow  a  little  on  the  length 
["7l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


of  the  coffin  to  make  room  for  the  historic 
hat. 

The  arrival  of  Parson  Blackgrove  was  the 
signal  for  the  company  to  file  out  of  the 
house  and  leave  Nana  and  her  nearest  rela- 
tives alone  with  the  corpse. 

"Quamin,"  said  his  grandmother,  "take 
you'  leave  of  you'  gran'fader." 

The  boy  stepped  reluctantly  to  the  coffin 
and  looking  the  dead  man  in  the  face  with 
eyes  wide  with  terror  said,  in  a  scarcely 
audible  whisper,  "Good-bye,  Grandfader; 
you  can  no  more  be  my  gran'fader — have 
not'ing  more  to  do  wid  me. "  Then  he  turned 
and  fled  through  the  door. 

Each  one  of  the  connections  went  through 
the  same  formula,  varying  the  words  only, 
to  suit  their  degree  of  relationship  and  when 
all  had  gone  through  this  ceremony  Constan- 
tine  screwed  the  lid  on  to  the  coffin  and 
arranged  two  folded  sheets  to  form  a  sling  and 
serve  instead  of  handles  to  the  pall-bearers. 

The  procession  formed  with  Parson  Black- 

[>281 


The  Funeral 


grove  leading,  and  Nana  and  Quamin  foUow- 
Jng  just  behind  the  coffin. 

The  grave  had  been  dug  at  the  foot  of  a 
large  mango  tree  which  stood  on  a  slight 
rising  not  far  from  the  house  and  to  this  the 
procession  wended  its  way,  but  before  it  had 
proceeded  many  yards  there  was  a  halt,  and 
Samuel,  the  pennkeeper,  who  with  a  relative 
of  the  deceased  named  Barabas  constituted 
two  of  the  paU-bearers  turned  to  the  widow 
and  said, 
"Him  won't  go,  Nana." 
The  widow  looked  puzzled.     They  were 
passing  no  house  harbouring  an  inmate  against 
whom  the  old  man  in  life  might  have  had  a 
grudge,  and  she  was  therefore  at  a  loss  to 
understand  his  reason  for  stopping  the  pro- 
cession. 

"Wat  is  de  matter?"  demanded  the  ad- 
vance guard  discovering  the  break. 

"Corpse  won't  go  no  further.  Parson  " 
repUed  Constantine,  who  with  Cousin  Joshy 
were  the  other  two  paU-bearers.    ■ 
[lagj 


-Am 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


There  was  a  pause,  then  the  company 
began  whispering  together  and  Cousin  'Liz- 
bet'  stepped  up  to  Nana  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  her  ear.  Nana  nodded  assent  and 
going  to  the  coffin  appeared  to  hold  converse 
with  the  dead,  then  turning  to  the  prJl-bearers 
she  said, 

"You  can  go  on  now.  Him  did  just 
want  to  make  me  remember  to  lef  de  bot- 
tle of  rum  for  him  to-night.  You  'mem- 
ber I  promise  him  dat  las'  night  at  de 
wake?" 

"Ah!  so  for  true,"  said  Samuel,  as  though 
he  had  quite  forgotten  the  incident. 

The  procession  started  and  this  time 
the  corpse  was  carried  without  hindrance  to 
the  side  of  the  grave  where,  in  lowering  the 
slings  from  their  shoulders,  the  pall-bearers 
showed  some  awkwardness,  letting  the  coffin 
turn  a  little  to  one  side. 

Nana   threw   up   her   hands   exclaiming: 

"Oh!  my  Fader,  look  at  dat  now,  and  if 
there  is   one   t'ing  de  ole   man  did    more 
[130I 


( 


potickler  -bout,   it   was   to   have    hin,   hat 
straight  "pon  him  head." 

"  ^'^"'  "•"■' "« '^Wle,"  said  Parson  Black- 
grove  soothingly.    "Seeing  as  it  was  not  his 
fault,  de  Lard  wiU  surely  excuse  him  for  dat 
^t  us  pray. " 

The  burial  service  was  read,  the  coffin 
lowered  to  its  last  resting  place,  and  the 
company  joining  hands  in  a  circle  about  the 
grave,  sang  "Only  one  more  river  to  cross," 
after  which  the  coffin  was  covered,  the  earth 
beaten  down,  and  with  another  Sankey  and 
Moody  hymn  to  finish  with,  they  dispersed, 
he  relatives  of  the  widow  r^tur^g  with  her 
to  the  house. 

Here  it  was  Rose-Mary's  intention  to 
remain  for  at  least  ten  days,  as  the  ghost  of 
the  departed  was  apt  to  prowl  about  the 
place  which  had  once  known  him  for  nine 
nights  after  death,  and  of  course  Nana  could 
not  be  left  to  face  the  "duppy"  alone 

That  night  in  the  bedroom  of  the  litUe  cot- 
tage where  Father  Dreckett  had  been  laid 
ti3'l 


•t 
if 


J; 

II  :  *  : 


*    1 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


out  a  lamp  was  left  burning;  and  true  to  her 
promise,  Nana  purchased  a  pint  of  rum  which 
she  placed  with  a  plate  of  cooked  food  on  the 
table,  whereon  stood  the  lamp.  Then  she 
shut  the  door  and  the  entire  household  betook 
themselves  to  sleep  uprin  the  floor  of  the 
sitting-room. 

Just  before  midnight,  Nana  was  disturbed 
by  the  wild  cackling  of  a  hen  which  she  had 
put  to  set  upon  a  nest  of  eggs  under  the 
house. 

"Rose-Mary,  Rose-Mary,"  she  called  in 
low,  frightened  tones,  "him  come!"  but 
Rose-Mary  heard  not  and  knew  nothing  of  the 
visit  from  the  dead  until  next  morning  re- 
vealed the  rum  bottle  empty,  and  most  of  the 
food  consumed. 

"Lard!  Him  did  hungry  for  true,"  she 
said,  and  every  one  agreed  with  her. 

Meanwhile  Samuel,  with  his  head  bound 
up  in  a  wet  cloth,  lay  on  his  straw  litter  un- 
able to  move,  while  Barabas,  whose  share  in 
the  spoil  had  been  limited,  staggered  about 
I132I 


The  Funeral 


vainly  trying  to  perfonn  the  office  of  penn- 
keeper,  until  dismissed  by  Constantino  as 
"A  good  for  not'ing  jackass." 

When  three  days  had  passed  and  Samuel's 
indisposition   grew  worse  instead  of  better 
a  story  got  abroad,  probably  through  the 
instrumentality  of  Barabas,  who  like  Adam 
felt  himself  exempt  from  blame  in  as  much  as 
he  had  not  been  the  one  to  pluck  the  fruit, 
that  the  pennkeeper  was  haunted  by  a  duppy.' 
Samuel,  hearing  this,  and  remembering  his 
theft,  grew  so  alarmed  that  his  condition 
became  critical.    Something   must  be  done, 
and  as  a  duly  registered  medical  man  was  of 
no  avail  in  such  a  case,  the  services  of  a 
"Duppy  Catcher"  must  be  sought. 

"Guinea  BiU  is  first  rate  for  dat,"  volun- 
teered Harry,  and  a  messenger  was  dispatched 
for  the  obeahman  and  soon  he  came,  riding 
the  mule,  while  the  messenger  walked  behind 
at  a  respectful  distance. 

Guinea  BiU  carried  a  much  worn  carpet  bag, 
and  dismounting  demanded: 
(•33] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


"Where  is  de  sick?" 

Constantine  conducted  him  to  Samuel's 
bedside  and  he  stooped  to  examine  the  pa- 
tient, lifting  the  eyelids  and  peering  under 
them,  staring  into  the  face  of  the  prostrate 
man,  whose  teeth;  chattered  with  combined 
ague  and  fright. 

When  he  had  finished  his  examination, 
Guinea  Bill  ordered  Constantine  to  leave  him 
alone  with  the  patient,  and  when  he  had  been 
obeyed,  he  said  to  Samuel: 

"You  hab  any  quarrel  wid  anybody?  Tell 
de  truth  now  or  you  will  surely  die." 

"No,  sah,"  faltered  Samuel. 

"You  t'ief  anyt'ing  from  you  neighbours? 
Tell  de  truth  now  or  you  will  surely  die. " 

Samuel  opened  his  lips  as  if  to  speak,  then 
closed  them  again. 

"Tell  de  truth,  sinner,  or  you  shall  widder 
away  Uke  de  'Dead  and  Wake'  [sensitive 
plant]  when  you  touch  it. " 

"I  t'ief  a  pint  of  rum,  Guinea,"  faltered 
Samuel. 

[1341 


The   Funeral 


"Aha!  I  said  so,  my  son;  and  who  did  dat 
rum  belong  to— de  dead  or  de  Uving?" 

"De  dead,"  came  in  a  whisper  from  the 
pennkeeper's  ashen  lips. 

"Aha!  just  so  I  thought,  for  I  see  the  pic- 
ture of  dat  carpse  in  you'  eyeball  and  de  case 
IS  a  bad  one.    Dat  dead  was  very  fond  of 
rum    and  you  did  not  wisely  to  tob  him; 
derefore,  before  I  can  catch  dat  duppy  you 
must  pay  de  price  in  silver,  my  son,  twelve 
pieces  of  silver.    An'  furdermore.  you  mus' 
place  upon  de  grave  of  dat  said  carpse  a 
bottle  of  rum  two  times  de  size  of  de  one  dat 
you  fief  from  him." 

Samuel,    knowing  what   to  expect,   had 

tied  his  smaU  savings    in    the    comer    of 

a    handkerchief     which     he     had    hidden 

.^der    the    mattress.     This  he  now  drew 

•  'ih. 

'Eleven  is  all  I  has,  Guinea,  but  de  res' 
I  will  pay  you  when  I  get  better. " 

"Wid  less  dan  twelve  pieces  in  my  pocket 
It  is  double  de  work  to  catch  dat  duppy,  an' 
[>35) 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

you  mus'  derefore  pay  me  six  pieces  more 
when  you  got  de  money." 

Samuel  groaned;  this  was  indeed  extortion, 
yet  he  had  no  choice,  for  refusal  meant  death. 

"Very  well,  Guinea,  I  'gree  to  dat." 

From  the  bag  the  magician  now  drew  a  pint 
bottle  into  which  he  put  twelve  com  grains, 
and  leaving  the  bag  in  a  comer  of  the  sick 
man's  room  went  out  to  commence  opera- 
tions. 

There  was  an  anxious  assemblage  waiting 
for  further  developments  and  this  now  drew 
back  as  the  obeahman  appeared. 

Three  times  he  made  the  rounds  of  the 
house,  rattling  the  com  grains  and  calling, 
"  Chick,  Chick,  Chick ! "  As  he  completed  the 
third  round  he  made  a  thrust  into  the  air 
with  the  bottle  and  exclaiming,  "Aha!  I 
got  you,"  quickly  corked  in  the  offending 
astral. 

Now  that  the  danger  was  over,  the  tongues 
of  the  onlookers  relaxed  and  every  one  wanted 
a  peep  at  the  precious  bottle. 
[136I 


I 


•'I  see  hin,!!  see  him.- shouted  Barabas. 
an  h.m  look  JUS' like  Fader  Dreckett." 

Heanng  this,  the  anxiety  of  the  crowd  to 
e™  the  bottle  became  greater  than  ever 
but  Gmnea  Bill  quickly  put  a  damper  on 

handkerchief  andreturning^thittosJuers 

"Now  my  son.  you  is  safe,  but  dean  forget 
de  s«  sh,lhngs  for  him  is  a  strong  duppy  2 
f  y-  doan  pay  de  fuU  price  d!t  cTcan 

^ev^keep  him  in  and  dat  duppy  will  com: 
out  and  haunt  you  worse  dan  ever  " 

"God  bless  you.  Guinea  Bill!"  „,urmu,,d 

^  .^ma..whoassoonasthemagicdanhad 
left  bm  fell  mto  a  refreshing  sleep. 

Guinea  BiU  retired  to  the  house  of  Constan- 
ce where  he  was  liberally  entertained,  and 

i^ixtrd'r^^-"""^^--- 

His  illness  and  subsequent  recovery  were 
the  tali  of  the  entire  neighbourhood  a^d  fear 
of  Father  Drecketfs  duppy  kept  most  f^s 
Ii37l 


indoors  after  dark.  At  sunset  little  groups 
collected  at  the  various  houses  where  ghost 
stories  from  one  and  the  other  added  to  the 
general  nervousness,  and  when  the  time  came 
to  disperse,  the  company  saw  each  other  home 
accompanied  by  a  lantern  bearer  and  a  dog. 
Every  shadow  on  the  way  caused  a  halt 
and  many  a  sudden  scream  from  one  or  the 
other  of  the  women  broke  the  stiUness  of  the 
tropical  night. 


[138] 


XII 


The  Pill  Box 

A  T  last  the  nine  days  and  nights  had  passed 
^    and  the  little  community  could  settle 
down  once  more  with  a  sense  of  security 
smce  they  felt  sure  that  even  if  Father  Dreck- 
ett  should  revisit  the  earth,   he  would  not 
wander  far  from  the  shades  of  the  mango  tree 
beneath  which  rested  his  mortal  remains;  so 
that  the  dog  and  the  lantern  had  had  their 
day,  and  retired  into  the  background  until 
another  death  should  caU  again  for  their 
ser\dces. 

On  the  tenth  day  after  the  funeral,  Cousin 
Joshy  and  his  family  went  home,  leaving 
Quanun  behind  at  the  request  of  his  grand- 
mother, who  felt  in  need  of  his  consoling 
presence. 


Poor  Uttle  Fibba  shed  many  bitter  tears 


I139] 


at 


r 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


the  parting  v/ith  Quasheba,  for  between  the 
little  girls  a  strong  friendship  had  sprung  up, 
and  Negril  seemed  a  very  dull  prospect  indeed 
beside  the  many  and  varied  attractions  of 
life  in  the  mountains,  with  Quasheba  to  lead 
and  she  to  follow,  the  part  Fibba  ever  liked 
the  best. 

Her  cat,  too,  must  be  parted  from  for  a 
while,  for  after  many  consultations  it  had 
been  agreed  that  Quamin  should  take  charge 
of  Miss  Elsie  on  the  return  journey,  for  there 
was  no  c>'rtainty  as  to  what  Rose-Mary's 
opinion  on  the  subject  of  its  return  might  be. 

Quamin  promised  to  take  every  care  of  her 
pet,  and  Fibba  had  learned  to  have  confidence 
in  his  promises,  so  she  bade  farewell  for  a 
time  to  the  cat,  showering  many  kisses  on 
its  cold  noso,  then  putting  it  into  Qviasheba's 
arms,  bent  forward  to  kiss  her  friend. 

"Wipe  you'  mout'  firs',"  commanded 
Quasheba,  drawing  back.  "I  doan  want  to 
ketch  tyzick,  an'  U  only  yesterday  I  see  Miss 
Elsie  eatin'  a  lizard." 

I140I 


The  Pill  Box 


Fibba  obeyed,  and  the  elders  having  by  this 
time  got  through  their  adieux,  the  little  party 
of  barefoot  travellers  started  on  their  long 
tramp. 

Quamin  and  Quasheba,  now  left  without 
companions  of  their  respective  sexes,  fell  back 
mto  their  old  habits,  and  started  for  the  pond 
with  a  dilapidated  basket  to  catch  ticky- 
tickles  (minnows).  At  the  pond  side  Quamin 
stooped  to  pick  from  the  mud  a  large  red 
pill  box  with  a  white  cover. 

"See  here,  Quasheba."  he  said,  showing  it 
to  the  little  girl,  "dis  is  jus'  de  same  as  de 
one  Samuel  fin'  at  de  back  of  de  stable  door 
m  de  Bay  w'en  Rowlin'  Calf  bite  me. " 

■Dat  is  one  of  Guinea  BiU  piU  box  " 
returned  the  little  girl.  "I  know  dem  weU 
for  one  day  I  see  Harry  have  some,  an'  I  ask 
himw'erehimgetdem.  Harry  lamin' obeah. 
you  know,"  she  added  in  a  sepulchral  whis- 
per; then  as  if  a  sudden  thought  had  struck 
her,  she  added,  "I  wonder  if  him  can  turn 
into  RowUn'  Calf  w'en  him  like?" 
I141] 


"Nebber.  I  doan  beUeve  so;  but  see  him 
comin'  dere;  meek  we  ask  him." 

"Hide  de  piU  box,"  said  Quasheba  hur- 
riedly, and  Quamin  thrust  it  into  his 
pocket. 

"Wat  you  two  doin'  here?"  asked  Harry 

as  he  came  up  to  them. 

"Catchin'fish,"repUed  Quasheba  promptly. 

"Harry,"  she  continued,  "you  know  if  some- 
body can  turn  into  RowUn'  Calf  shape?" 
"Of  course  dem  can— if  dem  only  know  de 

way." 

"You  know?"  asked  the  girl  innocently. 

"Yes,  an'  I  can  say  de  word  an'  turn  you 
into  a  chicken  or  a  lizard." 

"Lard!"    exclaimed    Quasheba,    seriously 

alarmed. 

"Oh!  chttt,  doan  beUeve  him,  Quasheba, 
him  can't  do  it  at  aU,  at  all,  but  jus'boasin' 
w'en  him  say  dat." 

"Better  teck  care,  Missa  Quamin,  or  I  call 
iiqjpy  now  come  teck  you. " 

"  CaU  den.     You  is  a  hard  from  time,  Harry, 


The  Pill  Box 


an'  doan  know  not'ing  'bout  call  duppy  or 
suchlike  t'ing. " 

The  answer  was  a  stinging  blow  on  the  side 
of  his  head,  and  immediately  Quamin  was 
on  the  defensive. 

The  two  boys  fought  wildly  after  the 
manner  of  their  African  forefathers,  while 
Quasheba  jumped  around  them,  encouraging 
Quamin  and  clapping  her  hands  in  unre- 
strained exdtemenl  every  time  he  gained  an 
advantage.  At  last  Quamin's  chance  came 
and  lowering  his  head  he  butted  with  aU  his 
might;  the  blow  landed  square  in  the  other 
boy's  diaphragm  and  sent  him  sprawUng 
breathless  to  the  ground. 

"Teck  dat  for  you  imperance,"  said  the 
victor  triumphantly  as  he  threw  himself  on 
the  grass  beside  Quasheba. 

Harry  soon  recovered  and  sitting  up  looked 
about  for  his  hat. 

' '  See  it  here,  "said  Quamin  with  alaugh  as  he 
threw  the  pill  box  at  his  antagonist,  and  Harry, 
looking  up  quickly,  received  it  full  in  his  face. 
['431 


ir 


"Were  you  get  dat?"  queried  the  youth- 
ful Duppy  Catcner,  in  surprise,  and  Quasheba 
answered  before  Quamin  had  time  to  do  so: 

"Behin'  de  stable  in  de  Bay  dat  time  you 
form  RowUn"   Calf  an'  juke   Quamin   wid 

penknife." 

The  boy  was  dumb  with  amazement,  and 
plainly  agitated,  but  he  quickly  recovered 
himself  and  with  a  forced  laugh  said: 

"You  t'ink  you  know  everyfing  Miss 
Quasheba.  How  I  could  be  at  de  Bay  an'  at 
me  moder  house  at  de  same  time?" 

"You  nebber  go  to  you'  moder  house,  for 
Barabas  tell  me  him  see  you  drivin'  in  a 
cart  to  de  Bay  dat  same  day,  an'  you'  moder 
live  up  at  de  mountainside." 

Harry  was  nonplussed  but  determined  not 

to  give  in. 

'  'Barabas  tell  you  a  lie;  I  only  drive  as  far 
as  de  shop  to  get  somet'ing  to  carry  give 
me  moder  how  she  been  sick." 

"Wen  him  sec  you,  you  pass  dc  shop  long 
time,"  said  Quasheba  determinedly. 
I144) 


The  Pill  Box 


"Oh!  stop  you  nonsense,  you  damn  little 
fool,"  said  Harry  fiercely,  losing  his  temper 
and  rushing  at  the  little  girl  who  quickly 
got  behind  Quamin. 

"You  want  to  fight-/ith  woman.eh?"  asked 
this  latter  squaring  himself  and  rolling  his 
fists  right  in  Harry's  face.  "Well  take  dat  an' 
go  'bout  you'  business. " 

He  delivered  a  blow  which  sent  Harry 
reeling  back  and  would  have  followed  it  up 
mth  another  but  his  antagonist,  at  no  time 
very  brave,  took  to  his  heels,  only  stopping 
at  a  safe  distance  to  shake  his  fist  at  Quamin 
and  say, 

"I  will  pay  you  for  dis,  you  hear? 

^Tien  he  had  disappeared  the  two  children 
settled  doxvn  quietly  to  the  catching  of  their 
fish,  and  after  an  hour  or  so  had  enough  of  the 
small  minnows  to  make  quite  a  meal.  These 
they  divided  and  earned  to  their  respective 
homes  where  they  were  eaten  with  much 
relish. 

More  than  half  his  time  Quamin  spent  with 
i'4Sl 


The  Story  of  Quatnin 


his  godfather  and  had  many  a  heavenly 
gallop  on  the  mare  Bees  Wing,  who  seemed 
not  to  have  forgotten  him,  and  whinnied  at 
the  sound  of  his  voice. 

Thus  the  days  flew  by,  and  it  was  very 
regretfully  that  he  woke  one  morning  to  the 
knowledge  that  this  was  his  last  day  at  home. 
Nana,  too,  was  sad  at  the  thought  of  parting 
once  more  from  her  darUng,  but  she  still 
cherished  fondly  the  dream  of  seeing  him 
a  mighty  preacher,   and  so  smothered  her 
regrets  and  went  to  work  to  cook  him  com 
pones,  duckanoes,  and  other  tropical  delica- 
cies that  he  might  feast  royally  before  he  went. 
As  for  Quasheba,  she  was  utterly  cast  down, 
for  with  the  departure  of  Quamin  she  would 
be  bereft  of  all  companions,  with  the  exception 
of  Harry,  who,  of  course  was  now  out  of  the 
question.    She  hovered  around  Quamin  all 
day,  and  only  turned  her  footsteps  home- 
wards at  sunset  because  she  did  not  care  to 
merit   the   punishment   which  would  surely 
be  hers  if  she  stayed  away  longer. 
I146I 


Ui 


"I  will  go  wid  you  as  far  as  de  house  " 

waWd  i"   '''   """""^   ''-■^   gra„dn,other 
wakened  lun,  and  hurrying  into  his  clothes 

h^ade  haste  to  catch  Miss  Elsie  and  secut 

Hardly  had  he  swaUowed  his  cttp  of  hot 

beverage,  and  a  piece  of  bread,  which  Nana 

set.fo.hi..whenConstantine.scartl": 

He  got  in  and  the  old  woman  saw  to  the 

stowing  away  of  his  bundle,  then  K-issd  h 

you,  me  boy!"  and  with  eyes  heavy  with 
tears,  watched  him  go  from  her  once  more 

The  cart  erept  away  in  the  dim.  shadowy 
.  f '  f  '^'^y  »°™«g  and  when  it  had  van- 

'Shed  f,  her  sight,  the  old  woman  turned 
back-  mto  her  cottage,  feeling  that  now  ind'd 
was  she  widowed.  '"ueea 


(i4;I 


xra 

Negril  Again 

AS  Quamin  walked  up  the  slope  to  the 
cottage  at  Negril,  Abijah  and  Fibba 
came  running  to  meet  him. 

"Were  me  puss?"  asked  the  Uttle  girl 
before  she  had  reached  his  side. 

"Pee  you'  puss  dere,"  he  exclaimed, 
throwing  the  basket  containing  her  treasure 
to  Fibba,  who  with  difficulty  caught  it  before 
it  fell  to  the  ground.  "An'  min'  you,  dat  is 
a  job  I  doan  want  again.  Dat  puss  'pon 
bawlin'  from  de  minit  de  cart  move  off  till 

now." 

"She  is  on  dyin'  wid  hungry!"  exclaimed 
Fibba  and  started  to  run  for  the  house,  where 
the  cat  was  speedily  set  at  liberty  and  fed 
on  the  scraps  which  her  mistress  had  saved 
from  her  own  scanty  meal. 
[148I 


The  two  boys  fol!owcd  more  slowly. 
Abijah  entertaining  Quamin  with  an  account 
of  the  doings  at  Negri]  during  his  absence. 

Me  fader  meckin'  a  new  canoe,  you  know, 
Quamin,  a  able  big  one,  can  hoi'  six  somebody 
at  one  time." 

"Were  him  have  it?"  asked  Quamin  full 
01  interest. 

"Down  by  de  sea-shore,  as  you  go  to  Daddy 
Longfoot  shop.  I  wi-U  show  you  it  as  soon 
as  you  eat  you  dinner  done;  dem  goin'  burn 
It  out  to-marra." 

_  But  Quamin  was  too  tired  after  his  long 
journey  in  the  hot  sun,  and  had  no  sooner 
eaten  his  portion  of  salt  fish  and  cocoa  than 
he  betook  himself  to  his  mattress  and  slept 
the  round  of  the  clock. 

Next  morning  after  a  visit  had  been  paid 
to  the  new  canoe,  the  boys  bethought  them 
o.  a  long  postponed  swimming  contest,  and 
started  for  the  beach. 

Fibba,  who  was  feeding  the  chickens  at  the 
kitchen    door,    threw    down    the    remaining 
(149) 


food    in   her    apron,    and    ran  after  them, 

"Were  you  goin',  Abijah?    Goin  bade? 
Getting  no  answer,  she  ran  after  them  to 
the  beach  where  the  boys  were  hurriedly 
stripping  off  their  clothes. 

"Go  'way!  Go  "way!"  they  shouted  in 
unison.  "Gal  doan  have  no  business  here." 
Fibba's  eyes  filled  with  tears;  she  had  so 
often  shared  their  sports  and  could  swim 
almost  as  well  as  they  could,  so  why  should 
they  object  to  her  company? 

"All  right,  yah!  I  not  comin'  near  you; 
I  goin'  bade  by  meself,"  she  returned  with  a 
toss  of  her  head  though  her  tears  were  falling 

fast.  „   , 

"Teck    care    shark    ketdh    you,'     called 

Abijah,  and  then  the  boys  plunged  into  the 

water. 

When  she  had  rounded  a  point  in  the  bay, 

and  was  hidden  from  their  sight,  the  girl 

undressed  slowly  and  walked  naked  into  the 

sea.    Ay  her  joy  had  faded  and  though  the 

I150I 


li"- 


Negril  Again 


sun  shone  brightly  and  the  day  was  hot. 
she  shivered  as  the  water  rose  to  her 
knees. 

Dipping  her  head  down,  she  wet  her  fore- 
head, then  plunging  boldly  in,  swam  around 
like  a  big  brown  fish. 

From  the  point  she  could  see  the  boys 
without  being  seen  and  watched  them  swim 
out  a  good  distance,  then  turn  and  race  back 
This  they  repeated  again  and  again,  and 
sometimes  Quamin  was  first  and  sometimes 
Abijah,  until  Fibba  could  not  be  sure  who 
was  really  the  victor. 

After  a  few  dives,  they  came  to  the  beach 
and  got  into  their  clothes,  and  Fibba,  having 
seen  it  aU,  continued  her  own  aquatic  gym- 
nasties.  She  swam  out  as  far  as  she  judged 
the  boys  had  gone;  back  and  forth  until  she 
was  tired,  then  turned  to  come  in.  Just 
then  Quamin  and  Abijah,  who  were  coming 
towards  her,  saw  the  little  black  head  disap- 
pear beneath  the  waves. 

"Run,  Abijah!"  said  Quamin,  and  the  two 
[151] 


MICROCOTY   RESOLUTION   TKT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


_^  APPLIED  irvHGE     Inc 

^E"-  '653   East    Main    Slreet 

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The  Story  of  Quamin 

ran  to  the  beach,  but  there  was  no  sign  of 

the  little  girl. 

"My  God!"  he  exclaimed,  "shark  got  her. 
Meek  has',  Abijah,  an'  get  you'  fader. '' 

Abijah  did  as  he  was  bid  and  soon  Joshy 

came  running. 

"She  come  up  yet?"  asked  the  man,  of 

Quamin.  ,     , .     ^    tt, 

"No,  sah,"  the  boy   rephed.   his   teeth 

chattering. 

"Get  de  canoe,"  he  commanded,  and  soon 
his    fishing   dug-out    was   dancing    on   the 

""  By'this  time  a  crowd  had  gathered,  the 
schoolmaster  in  its  midst. 

"Let  me  go  wid  you,  Joshy?"  he  saad,  and 

Joshy  nodded.  .    ,.    4.  j  t,„ 

They  paddled  out  to  the  spot  indicated  by 

the  boys,  then  without  a  word  the  father 

handed  his  paddle  to  his  compamon  and 

plunged  into  the  waves.  _ 

So  long  did  Joshy  remain  lost  to  sight 

that  those  on  shore  feared  a  double  tragedy 
I152I 


Negril  Again 


and  began  to  discuss  what  should  be  done 
next.  Before  any  decision  had  been  reached, 
however,  his  head  appeared  above  the  water 
and  a  second  later  he  had  lifted  to  the  side 
of  the  canoe  the  little  brown  corpse  of  his 
daughter. 

The  schoolmaster  uttered  a  cry  of  horror, 
but  the  father  only  said,  "Paddle  to  de 
shore,"  and  sat  holding  the  dead  girl  upon 
his  knees. 

There  were  many  willing  hands  to  beach 
the  canoe  and  some  would  have  helped  the 
bereaved  man  with  his  burden,  but  he  waved 
them  off  and  carried  the  corpse  up  the  hill 
to  the  house  where  Rose-Mary  sat  wailing, 
amid  a  circle  of  comforters. 

Next  day  a  grave  was  dug  in  a  cocoanut 
grove  close  by  the  road  and  with  a  brief 
funeral  service  read  by  the  schoolmaster, 
Fibba  was  laid  to  rest;  it  was  her  turn  to 
lead  now  and  the  others  must  follow  when 
their  time  had  come. 
While  the  corpse  remained  in  the  house, 
[>53l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


Miss  Elsie,  mewing  piteously,  had  desired 
to  creep  to  her  old  shelter  in  the  little  girl's 
arms  but  this  was  not  allowed,  and  the  cat 
retired  to  a  dark  comer  where  she  lay  unob- 
served until  the  funeral  procession  formed, 
then  she  crept  softly  after  the  group  and 
remained  behind  unnoticed  when  the  last  of 
the  mourners  had  gone  from  the  grave. 

That  night  it  rained  heavily  and  a  boy 
returning  from  the  light-house,  overwhelmed 
with  fear  at  the  thought  of  passing  the  newly 
made  grave,  as  he  neared  the  spot  picked 
up  a  stone,  and  when  the  tired  mewing  of 
the  little  cat  reached  his  ears,  he  threw  it  in 
the  direction  of  the  sound  and  fled  for  dear 

life- 
There  was  a  mew  cut  short,  then  silence 

from  all  but  the  pattering  rain  drops,  some 

of  which  fell  on  the  body  of  the  Uttle  dead 

cat  as  she  lay  full  length  on  the  grave  of  her 

mistress. 

It  was  about  two  weeks  after  this  that 
Quasheba  received  the  long  promised  letter 
[154I 


Negril  Again 


from  Quamin.  She  found  it  at  the  shop 
where  it  had  been  left  by  some  stray  traveller 
from  Negril,  and  where  she  had  gone  to  make 
a  purchase  for  her  mother.  Her  face  beamed 
delight  as  the  envelope  bearing  the  inscription, 
"Miss  Ruth  Deborah  Evans"  was  handed  to 
her,  and  despatching  her  mother's  business  as 
quickly  as  possible,  turned  to  go  home. 

Now  Ruth  Deborah  Evans  had  learned 
of  the  schoolmaster  despised  of  Nana  Dreck- 
ett  how  to  read  out  of  a  book,  but  the  perusal 
of  writing  offered  some  difficulties,  and  the 
Kttle  giri,  after  weighty  consideration,  de- 
cided to  take  her  letter  to  Cousin  'Lizbet' 
who  was  her  grandmother  and  somethii.g 
of  a  scholar. 

The  road  home  seemed  unusually  long  as 
she  hurried  over  it,  but  there  was  consolation 
in  examining  from  time  to  time  the  address 
written  in  large  childish  characters. 

Cousin  'Lizbet'   sat   on   a  bench  outside 
the  door  and  Quasheba  lost  no  time  in  de- 
positing her  mother's  parcel  on  the  kitchen 
[>S5] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


table  and  presenting  the  letter  to  the  old 
woman  with  the  request  to  have  it  read. 

Cousin  'Lizbef  drew  the  spectacles  from 
her  fo-ehead  where  they  had  been  reposing, 
and  settled  them  on  her  nose,  then  with 
great  del"-eration  opened  the  letter  and 
proceeded  to  read  it  aloud.    It  ran  thus: 

"Dear  QuashebA, 

"I  lam  nough  to  keip  de  pramise  I  mayke 
to  you  an  wishin  to  tell  you  dat  you  fren 
Fibba  is  died  of  drownding.    We   does  our 
bes  to  save  her  but  cudden  quarUfy.    She 
bury  onder  one  big  cocoanut  tree  an  her 
puss  is  also  pas  before  wid  her.     Miss  Elsie 
ly  ded  on  de  grave  an  dere  is  some  wat  say 
dat  de  duppy  choke  de  cat  dat  she  mite  have 
it  wid  her  how  she  so  much  lov  it  in  life. 
"Respeckful  you  fren, 

"Daniel  Belteshazzar  Fielding." 

The  tears  were  streaming  down  Quasheba's 
face  for  in  her  own  wayward,  warm-hearted 
way  she  really  loved  her  friend. 
[156I 


Negril  Again 


"Fibba  dead  an'  gone!  Fibba  dead  an' 
gone!"  she  moaned,  rolling  around  on  the 
ground  where  she  had  thrown  herself. 

"Chile,  stop  you'  bawlin',"  said  her  grand- 
mother. "Fibba  is  now  wid  de  Lard  w'ere 
dere  is  no  more  weepin',  only  singin'  an* 
rejoicin'." 

There  was  silence  for  a  while,  then  Quasheba 
lifted  up  her  tear-stained  face    and    said: 
"But  Grannie,  Fibba  cam  sing  no  more  dan 
John  Crow,  so  how  she  goin'  to  manage?" 

"  De  Lard  will  provide,  chile,  an'  dem  as  has 

no  vice,  him  will  meek  to  play  'pon  cymbal. 

Come  now,  meek  we  go  tell  Nana  Dreckett." 

"Wat  cymbal  stan'  like,  Grannie?"  asked 

Quasheba,  ever  athirst  for  information. 

"Jus'  like  two  pot-head  meek  out  of  brass, 
an'  dem  beat  dem  togedder  so,  bram!  bram!" 
There  was  silence  between  the  two  all  the 
rest  of  the  way  to  Nana  Drcckett's  house, 
broken  only  by  an  occasional  sniffle  from  the 
little  girl,  who  could  not  find  complete  com- 
fort in  the  contemplation  of  her  friend's  bliss. 
[157] 


That  night  after  they  had  returned  from 
their  visit,  Rachel,  hearing  an  extraordinary 
noise  in  the  kitchen,  went  to  see  what  it  was 
and  found  Quasheba  marching  back  and 
forth,  singing  her  favourite  hymn,  "Only 
one  more  river,"  to  an  accompaniment  of 
clashing  pot-lids. 

"For  gracious  sake!  Wat  is  de  matter 
wid  de  chile?"  asked  Rachel  astonished  and 
Quasheba  replied  shyly: 

"I  larnin'  meself  to  play  de  cymbal.  Ma, 
so  dat  w'en  I  dead  de  Lard  will  give  me  a 
seat  'pon  de  same  bench  wid  Fibba." 

"Chile,  you  too  fool!  go  to  you'  bed  an' 
say  you'  prayers  good,  so  dat^Massa  up  a' 
top  will  excuse  you  dis  time." 

Quasheba,  putting  away  her  cymbals,  did 
as  she  was  bid  and  soon  went  to  sleep  to 
dream  that  she  had  died  and  was  up  in 
Heaven  with  Fibba,  with  whom  she  was  play- 
ing a  duet  on  golden  pot-lids,  much  to  the  ap- 
probation of  the  archangel  Gabriel,  her  grand- 
mother's favourite  among  the  heavenly  host. 
[158] 


XIV 

Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 

■|^HEN   Quamin   had  reached  the   age 
''  »      limit  for  the  public  schools  and  was, 
if  anything,  rather  more  learned  than  most 
negro  boys  of  his  age.  Nana  Dreckctt's  am- 
bition was  not  yet  satisfied,  and  she  gladly 
accepted   the   schoolmaster's   of^er  to   keep 
her  grandson  for  awhile  as  a  private  scholar. 
Cousin  Joshy  was  pleased  at  the  arrange- 
ment for  Quamin  had  become  quite  a  valu- 
able assistant  in  the  fishing  business,  and 
as  his  lessons  must   now  be  taken  in  the 
evening  after  school  hours,  there  would  be 
more  time  at  his  disposal  than  before.    So 
all  hands  were  satisfied,  and  no  one  realised 
that  Nana  Dreckett  had  once  more  made 
heroic  sacrifice  of  her  own  feelings  for  the 
good  of  her  grandson. 

[•59] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


She  felt  old  age  descending  heavily  upon 
her  and  wearied  for  some  sign  of  the  "call" 
coming  to  Quamin,  for  as  yet  there  had  been 
none,  but  still  she  clung  to  her  faith  in 
Cousin  'Lizbet's  prophecy,  and  waited  pa- 
tiently. However,  as  the  years  continued 
to  pass  and  still  there  was  no  sign,  the  jid 
woman,  feeling  something  must  be  wrong, 
sent  for  her  grandson  to  come  home  and  she 
would  ge  her  friend  Parson  Blackgrove  to 
decide  for  her  the  proper  direction  in  which 
to  set  the  feet  of  Daniel  Belteshazzar. 

Quamin  felt  the  parting  from  the  household 
at  Negril  where  he  hud  made  a  comfortable 
niche  for  himself,  and  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  recognise  in  the  tall,  well  set  up 
youth,  wearing  a  suit  of  blue  serge,  well 
blackened  boots,  and  a  jaunty  sailor  hat,  the 
little  barefoot  boy  who  had  clung  to  his 
grandmother's  skirts  six  years  ago. 

Abijah,  also  well  grown  anJ  much  changed, 
went  with  Quamin  as  far  as  the  Bay  where 
the  shop  cart  took  them  and  where  the  boys 
[i6o] 


Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 

parted  with  much  regret,  promising  to  see 
each  other  soon  again. 

The  rest  of  the  way  Quamin  must  walk 
so  after  breakfasting  with  Rose-Mar^J 
cousm    he  put  his  supple  jack  through  the 

J.S  of  h.s  bundle  and.  swinging  it  over  hi 
shoulder,  set  out. 

When  the  outskirts  of  the  town  were  passed 
he  stopped  and  sitting  on  a  wayside  bank 
removed  his  shiny  boots  and  y.-ow  socks 
then  tying  the  boots  together,  .ung  them' 

a^o  on,, tick  over  his  shoulder,  stuffed  th" 
socks  mto  his  pocket,  and  proceeded  on  hi! 
way  with  much  more  comfort 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  he  reached 
h.s  grandmother's  cottage  where  Quasheba. 
a  slender  girl  of  fifteen,  was  busy  helping 
Nana  ^reckett  in  preparing  a  sumptu'o 
repast  and  watching  the  road  by  which 
yuamm  must  arrive. 
They  were  both   in   the  kitchen  getting 

'^/T^-oes  .^t  ol  the  ,ot  ^i.en  a  .od 
said.     Hi!  Grannie,  how  you  do?" 

[.6.J 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


The  duckanoes  fell  with  a  splash  back  into 
the  pot  and  Nana  Dreckett  gr.thered  the  boy 
into  her  longing  arms,  while  Quasheba  stood 
by  beaming  with  joy. 

'My   fader!   Quasheba,   you    grow   into 
big  woman  already,"  said  the  boy  when  he 
had  time  to  look  at  her.    "How  you  do?" 
"So-so,  t'ank  you,  an'  how  is  you'self?" 
" Mos'  tired  to  deaf  an'  hungry  too." 
"Poor  boy!    Quasheba  help  me  wid  dese 
t'ings  an'  meek  we  give  him  some  victuals," 
said  the  old  woman  turning  once  more  to 
the  steaming  pot. 

It  did  n't  take  long  to  get  the  duckanoes 
out  upon  a  dish  and  carry  them  to  the  house 
where  Quamin  followed  and  was  soon  feasting 
royally  while  Quasheba  and  his  grandmother, 
with  joyous  excitement,  waited  on  him. 

The  girl  had  somehow  expected  to  see 
the  barefoot  Quamin  of  her  childhood's  days, 
and  this  fine  young  man,  as  be  seemed  to  her 
in  his  fashionable  clothes  (for  the  boots 
had  been  replaced  before  the  end  of  the 

[•62] 


Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 

journey),  brought  to  her  a  st.ange  shyness 
Which  she  had  never  before  experienced 

When  Quamin's  hunger  had  been  appeased 
the  three  sat  on  the  door-step  on  which 
Father  Dreckctt  had  died,  and  the  old  worn, 
and  the  girl  listened  with  eager  attention 
to  all  that  Quamin  had  to  tell  of  thr  ^vents 
of  the  last  four  years,  for  it  was  all  that  time 
since  he  had  been  home. 

Quamin  was  a  good  raconteur  and  gave 
to  the  placid  everyday  life  at  Negril  touches 
which  made  it  alive  with  interest  for  his 
listeners.  So  enthralled  was  Quasheba  that 
she  had  forgotten  the  long  walk  home,  and 
It  was  now  so  late  that  Nana  Dreckett  per- 
suaded her  to  stay  until  the  morning.  She 
was  easily  persuaded  and  shared  Nana's  bed 
with  much  complacency. 

The  next  morning  Quamin  must  go  to  see 

his  godfather  and  Nana  took  the  opportunity 

of  holding  council  with  Parson  Blackgrove 

Now  Constantine  was  one  of  the  parson's 

most  influential  parishioners,  and  had  plainly 

[163] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


im 


expressed  disapproval  of  his  sister's  choice 
and  of  coercion  being  put  upon  the  boy  who 
was  evidently  not  destined  by  nature  for 
the  ministry.  Clearly  then,  the  parson's  duty 
was  to  disabuse  Nana  Dreckett's  mind  of 
the  cherished  idea,  and  this  he  tried  to  do 
by  proving  the  boy's  inefficiency. 

"Has  he  heard  de  voice  of  de  Lard  in  de 
night  time,  ma'm?"  he  asked. 

"No,  Parson,  I  never  hear  so,"  she  replied 

dolefully.  _  ^        , 

"Does   him   break   out   into  singin'   an 

thanksgivin',  ma'm?" 

Nana  shook  her  head;  her  heart  was  grow- 
ing heavier  with  each  question  she  was  obliged 
to  answer  in  the  negative. 

"Has  he  openly  renounce'  de  wori',  de 
flesh,  an'  de  debbil,  an'  does  he  sit  apart 
w'en  oders  are  feastin'  an'  eat  little?" 

Nana  groaned  in  spirit  at  the  remembrance 
o^  Quamin's  raid  upon  last  night's  duckanoes 
which  this  question  called  up. 

"No,  Broder,  de  boy  got  a  good   twis* 
[164I 


Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 

[appetite],    an'   las'   night   he   eat   off   ten 
duckanoe. " 

The  parson  threw  up  his  hands  in  pious 
horror. 

"Ten,  did  you  say.  Nana?" 
''Yes,  ten  of  dem,  besides  fish  an'  cocoa." 
"Dere  is  no  hope.  Nana,  no  hope,  for  one 
dat  is  gluttonous  cannot  become  a  preacher 
He  mus'  Hrs'  desire  to  live  like  de  prophet 
m  de  wilderness,  takin'  only  w'at  de  Lard 
sen'    him    by   de    ravens.     Mrs.    Dreckett, 
stnve  no  longer  wid  de  boy  but  let  him  larn 
a  trade;  dat  is  de  bes'  fing  you  can  do,  else 
might  you'  gran'son  become  like  unto  de 
false  prophets  who  prophesy  foolishness." 

As  the  old  woman  listened  to  this  verdict 
her  heart  rose  up  in  rebellion  and  her  mind 
classed  the  parson  with  the  false  prophets 
of  which  he  had  just  spoken.  After  a  few 
moments  of  silence  she  said: 

"Will  you  have  some  of  de  duckanoe 
I  meek  for  Quamin,  Parson  Blackgrove, 
beiore  you  go?" 

[165] 


The  Story  of  Quainin 


"  T'ank  you  kindly,  ma'm, "  he  replied  with 
alacrity.    "I  could  eat  some  wid  pleasure." 

"Den  go  somew'eres  else  w'ere  dere  is 
raven  to  feed  you.    I  doan  has  none  in  dis 

house." 

Saying  which,  Nana,  with  flashing  eyes,  rose 
and  seizing  the  chair  on  which  the  parson  sat. 
upset  its  occupant  on  to  the  foor. 

Too  much  amazed  to  protest,  he  hastily 
picked  himself  up  and  walked  away  to  the 
tree  on  which  his  mule  was  tethered. 

Without  even  a  look  in  Nana  Dreckett  s 
direction,  he  mounted  and  rode  away  and 
the  old  woman,  left  alone,  sat  down  to  think 
the  matter  over.  Having  discovered  Parson 
Blackgrove's  duplicity,  her  admiration  turned 
to  hatred  and  she  was  now  almost  glad  that 
Quamin  had  none  of  the  qualifications  for 

a  preacher. 

"Dem  is  all  w'ited  sepulchre  dat  goeth 
about  seekin-  who  dey  can  devour,  an'  I 
may  as  well  put  de  boy  to  a  good  trade  at 
once  an-   Jone  wid  it."  muttered  the  old 

[166] 


Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 

woman  to  herself,  and  Quamin  on  his  return 
was  electrified  with  the  news  of  her  changed 
intentions. 

"But  Grannie,  I  doan  want  no  trade. 
Meek  me  go  back  to  work  for  Godpa;  him 
want  me  an'  I  can  do  dat  work  widouten 
larnin'. " 

But  Nana  steeled  her  heart,  remembering 
the  sad  outcome  of  Quamin's  pennkeeping 
on  a  former  occasion. 

"No,  me  boy,  you  not  goin'  to  get  into  any 
more  trouble  frough  horse  ridin'  like  las' 
time;  I  will  teck  care  of  dat." 

Fortunately  Quamin  was  young  and  there 
was  no  hurry,  so  the  boy  could  stay  with 
her  for  the  present  and  help  with  the  ground 
and  other  matters  of  a  similar  nature.  This 
would  give  her  time  to  decide  on  a  suitable 
trade  and  find  a  teacher  for  him.  This 
arrangement  suited  the  boy  who  found  a 
considerable  amount  of  time  to  spend  with 
Constantine  on  the  penn  where  he  was  of  ten 
called  upon  to  fill  temporarily  the  place 
[167] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

of  some  one   of   the  penn   hands,    absent 
thiough  illness,  fancied  or  real. 

On  these  occasions  Quamin  indulged  to 
the  full  his  love  of  riding  which  had  grown 
and  intensified,   having  been  unattainable 

at  Negril. 

Quasheba  would  have  liked  to  foUow  her 
old  playmate  around  as  of  yore,  but  already 
the  serious  duties  of  life  had  descended  upon 
her   for  Rachel  had  developed  an  incurable 
disease  which  weU-nigh  disabled  her,  and 
Cousin  'Lizbet'  was  too  old  to  do  much  work. 
Quasheba  had  to  bring  provisions  from 
the  ground,  cook  the  scanty  meals,  and  feed 
the  pigs  as  weU  as  wash  for  the  family.  This 
latter  duty  was,  in  truth,  not  heavy  as  these 
T-romen  of  the  tropics  wore  but  little  clothmg; 
still  for  a  child  of  fifteen  the  life  was  a  fairly 
busy  one  and  she  would  find  time  only  in  the 
ewning  to  run  over  to  Nana  Drecketfs  for 
a  chat  with  Quamin,  unless  he  came  to  see 
her,  which  happened  quite  frequently. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  the  talk  turned 

[168] 


Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 


upon  Harry  whose  mother  and  father  had 
both  died  and  who  had  immediately  left 
for  the  Bay  in  search  of  the  long  wished  for 
trtde,  and  beyond  the  fact  that  he  had 
become  apprenticed  to  a  tailor,  nothing  had 
been  heard  of  him  since. 

"But  one  gal  tell  me  dat  she  hear  he  is 
comin'  up  dis  way  soon,  so  perhaps  you  will 
see  de  RowKn'  Calf  agen,  Quamin,"  said 
Quasheba. 

"So  you  doan  forget  'bout  dat  yet,  eh? 
Dat  was  true  RowUn'  Calf,  Quasheba,  an' 
not  Harry  at  all. " 

"How  you  know?"  queried  the  little  girl 
brusquely. 

"I  doan  know  how  I  know,  but  I  know; 
dat 's  all,  "replied  the  boy  a  trifle  offended, 
but  Quiwheba  only  sucked  her  teeth  and 
tossed  her  head.  She  was  not  to  be  so  easily 
convinced. 

"Den  how  you  know.   Miss  Wiseman?' 
he  asked  in  return. 
"I  doan  know  how  I  know,  but  I  know!" 
[169I 


V  • 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


mockingly  replied  she,  and  Quamin,  quite 
offended  now,  walked  off  in  the  direction 
of  home  without  even  a  good-night  word. 

One  evening  some  months  later,  as  Qua- 
sheba  stood  upon  the  railing  of  the  pig-pen  to 
pour  the  contents  of  a  tin  bucket  which  she 
carried  into  the  trough,  a  familiar  voice 
accosted  her. 

"Good-evenin',  Quasheba." 

She  turned  with  a  start  to  see  Harry  stand- 
ing a  few  feet  away,  dressed  even  better  than 
Quamin  had  been  on  his  return  from  Negril 
and  smiling  cynically. 

"Were  you  come  from?"  demanded  the 
girl  shortly. 

"Come  from  the  Bay,  of  course,  an' jus' on 
purpose  to  see  you,  me  dear." 

"I  doan  you  dear  an'  I  won't  meek  you 
call  me  dat,  Missa  Rowlin'  Calf. " 

Harry's  face  grew  dark  with  anger,  but 
he  controlled  himself  and  laughed  a  short 
forced  laugh. 

"So  you  doan  get  over  dat  nonsense  yet! 
[170] 


Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 

Well,  I  suppose  you  can't  help  bein'  ignorant 
how  you  live  all  <le  time  on  dis  hill  top.  " 

Any   other   time   Quasheba   would   have 
thrown  a  piece  of  the  pig's  food  into  his  face 
in  answer,  but  something  in  his  superiority 
of  dress  and  manner  overwhelmed  her   and 
she  contented  herself  with  turning  her  back 
upon  him  and  bestowing  all  her  attention 
upon  the  grunting  pigs  who  were  impatiently 
waitmg  to  sample  the  contents  of  the  bucket. 
Harry  continued  his  way  to  Nana  Dreck- 
etfs  cottage  where  he  found  Quamin  just 
returmng  from  the  ground  with  a  heavy  basket 
of  provisions  on  his  head. 

The  boy  from  the  town  smiled  pityingly 
as  he  looked  at  the  load  and  shook  hands  with 
Quamin  who.  quite  unabashed,  greeted  him 
joyously.  A  chat  with  Hairy  would  seem 
like  old  times  and  be  refreshing  to  the  boy 
who  had  long  since  forgotten  their  quarrel 
of  some  years  ago. 

Harry  stayed  all  night  with  Quamin  and 
th-y  discussed  all  the  subjects  which  had 
[171J 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


been  of  mutual  interest  when  they  worked 
together,  while  Harry  had  an  interesting 
store  of  information  concerning  town  life 
which  proved  most  alluring  to  the  country 

bred  boy. 

"An'  w'at  you  goin'  to  do  now,  Quamin?" 
asked  the  apprentice. 

"  I  doan  know  yet.  Grannie  want  me  to 
lam  trade  but  cam'  meek  up  her  min'  which 
one  she  like  de  bcs'." 

"You  ought  to  come  to  de  Bay  wid  me 
w'en  I  goin'  back  an'  try  de  tailorin';  I  like 
it  well  an'  you  get  good  money  for  you 
work.  Missa  Fernandez  say  he  want  anoder 
boy  to  work  for  him,  an'  maybe  he  would 
teck  you  if  you  come  wid  me. " 

"Dat  would  be  firs'  rate!"  cried  Quamin 
all  fired  with  his  companion's  glowing  de- 
scription of  the  life  of  a  tailor's  apprentice. 
"If  Grannie  will  meek  me  go,  I  will  go,"  he 
continued.      "  I  goin'  ask  her  right  off. " 

Nana  Dreckett  received  this  new  idea 
ri  -her  favourably  but  would  not  give  her 

[172] 


Nana  Gives  up  Hope  and  the  Parson 

final  decision  until  Constantine  had  been 
consulted.  This  was  soon  managed  and  the 
godfather  saw  no  objection  to  his  child  of 
promise  giving  this  trade  a  trial,  though,  truth 
to  tell,  he  rejoiced  in  the  moral  certainty 
that  the  boy's  .  pprenticeship  to  a  work  so 
sedentary  would  be  but  brief. 

Once  again  there  was  preparation  for 
Quamin's  departure,  and  this  time  his 
wardrobe,  a  trifle  more  extensive,  was  encased 
in  a  leather  bag  in  place  of  the  red  cotton 
handkerchief  wnich  had  done  duty  when  he 
travelled  to  school  at  Negri!. 

The  little  community,  hearing  of  the 
arrangement,  thought  Quamin  extremely 
lucky,  aU  except  Quasheba,  who  was  as- 
tonished and  mortified.  She  argued  long 
with  Quamin  in  the  vain  endeavour  to  turn 
him  from  this  project,  hurting  every  insulting 
epithet  she  could  think  of  at  the  trade  of 
tailoring;  but  he  only  laughed  and  told  her 
she  was  a  foolish  girt  and  it  was  a  sin  to  hate 
anybody  as  she  hated  Harry. 
("73] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

The  boys  left  at  dawn  one  morning  and 
Quasheba  was  not  among  those  v/ho  as- 
sembled the  night  before  to  bid  them  good- 
bye. 


I174I 


XV 
The  Bay 

HTHE  sun  was  beating  fiercely  down  on  the 
*       broad  white   street  which  constituted 
the  pnncipal  thoroughfaij  ol"  the  Bay.  when 
the  boys  reached  it. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  Quamin  was  to 
share  Harry's  domicile  during  his  appren- 
ticeship and  they  now  wended  their  way 
through  a  small  yard  to  a  very  dilapidated 
building  in  the  rear.  Harry  opened  the 
door  and  went  in.  Quamin  following  him. 
Throwmg  down  their  bags  they  seated  them- 
selves on  two  empty  boxes  to  rest,  the  best 
seats  the  room  afforded. 

Harry  at  once  drew  out  a  pipe  and  filling 
It  began  to  smoke,  while  Quamin  took  in 
his  surroundings  with  big  brown  eyes  full 
of  curiosity. 

t«75J 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


The  room  was  fairly  large  and  contained 
but  a  minimt'-n  amount  of  furniture.  > 
rickety  bed,  i  ^h  like  a  large  box  on  four 
posts,  occupied  one  comer;  in  another 
stood  a  rocking  chau-,  or  rather  the  skeleton 
of  one,  for  the  wicker  seat  and  back  had 
disappeared  leaving  behind  a  few  straggling 
wisps  of  cane;  and  a  table,  black  as  night 
and  spotted  from  end  to  end.  This  table 
was  of  solid  mahogany  and  the  tailor's 
apprentice  had  bought  it  for  a  mere  song 
from  an  old  woman  in  the  Bay  to  whom  it 
had  come  through  the  misfortune  of  the 
house  where  she  had  once  served. 

This  wr.s  all  the  furniture,  unless  the  two 
empty  salt-fish  loxes  on  which  the  boys 
sat  might  be  reckoned  as  such,  and  the 
room  was  lighted  by  two  jalousies,  or  shutter 
windows,  both  of  which  were  in  dilapidated 
keeping  with  the  rest;  still  Quamin  had  not 
been  used  to  much  better  and  felt  a  thrill 
of  joy  as  he  remembered  that  he  was  now 
free  from  the  vigilance  of  his  grandmother 
[176I 


and  able  to  follow  pretty  much  his  own 
devices. 

When  they  were  somewhat  rested,  the 
boys  began  to  realise  that,  having  eaten 
httle  as  yet  that  day,  they  were  hungry  and 
Quamin  followed  Harry  outside  where,  at 
the  back  of  the  houso,  the  rustic  fireplace 
of  three  large  ..ones  forming  a  triangle  was 
soon  filled  with  brambles  and  a  brisk  fire 
started. 

A  sump.  s  dinner  of  salt  fish  and  cocoas 
boiled  tog.  ■  ,r  satisfied  their  hunger,  and 
being  still  VL  '  tired  after  the  long  walk 
the  two  turned  into  bed  just  at  sunset. 

No  evil  dreams  disturbed  either  of  them 
and  they  woke  with  a  start  to  find  the  sun 
shining  through  the  broken  jalousies  right 
into  their  faces. 

"Get  up,  Quamin!"  said  Harry,  "for  I 
mus"  go  to  de  shop  before  eight  o'clock." 

Quamin  jumped  out  of  bed  and  drawing 
on  his  trousers  took  a  tin  dipper  and  an  old 
towe!  and  ran  down  to  the  sea-shore  at  the 
I«7?J 


back  of  the  house,  where  he  hurriedly  washed 
his  face  and  hands  in  the  salt  water. 

To  light  the  fire  once  more  was  the  work 
of  a  few  moments  and  this  time  a  little 
coffee  and  stale  bun  was  all  the  boys  needed. 

It  was  just  half  past  seven  when  Harry 
and  his  prot^g^  arrived  at  the  shop  where 
the  tailor  was  already  busily  at  work. 

Mr.  Fernandez,  a  small  mulatto  man,  in 
whose  veins  flowed  some  of  the  grandee  blood 
of  Spain,  looked  at  Quamin  sharply  frou. 
under  his  spectacles  as  the  boy  was  intro- 
duced by  the  apprentice.  Evidently  the  in- 
vestigation satisfied  the  tailor  who,  without 
asking  any  questions,  put  into  Quamin's 
hand  a  sharp  penknife  with  instructions  to 
rip  a  coat  which  he  handed  at  the  same 
time  to  the  boy. 

Quamin  took  the  garment,  and  seating 
himself  cross-legged  on  the  floor,  went  to 
work  with  such  good  will  that  when  the  day's 
work  was  done  Fernandez  offered  to  engage 
the  new  apprentice  at  a  small  weekly  wage. 
I178] 


The  Bay 


Quamin  was  delighted  at  his  success;  the 
busy  life  of  the  town  was  most  acceptable 
to  his  restless  nature  and  he  was  enchanted 
at  the  prospect  of  remaining  amid  its  mani- 
fold attractions. 

When  Sunday  came  round,  the  boy  from 
the  mountains,  according  to  custom,  dressed 
himself  for  church,  while  Harry  declared  his 
intention  of  visiting  a  friend  who  Uved  some 
twelve  miles  distant  from  the  Bay;  so 
Quamin  had  to  set  out  alone  to  encounter 
the  many  inquiring,  curious  glances  cast  at 
him  by  the  rest  of  the  congregation  who 
knew  him  to  be  a  stranger. 

He  entered  the  church  timidly,  waiting 
for  the  beadle  to  appoint  him  a  seat,  and 
when  the  one  selected  by  the  tall,  thin  old 
negro  in  the  tight  black  gown  proved  to  be 
near  the  door,  the  boy  was  glad  since  from 
thence  he  could  see  the  people  come  in,  and 
also  watch  the  horses  under  the  belfry  shed 
where  they  patiently  waited  for  the  close 
of  the  service  to  take  their  owners  home. 
[179I 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


On  a  little  bench  which  stood  against  the 
door,  three  little  negroes  sat:  a  boy  and  two 
girls  who  kept  their  eyes  fastened  on  the 
beadle.  When  he  was  in  sight  their  be- 
haviour was  exemplary  and  their  eyes  rolled 
up  to  the  ceiling  in  steadfast  devotion; 
but  the  moment  his  back  was  turned,  they 
began  an  animated  conversation. 

By  the  time  the  sermon  had  begun  they 
were  showing  signs  of  weariness,  and  before 
it  was  half  finished  had  fallen  asleep,  leaning 
heavily  on  one  another.  Their  repose  was 
short,  however,  for  a  stray  goat  with  an 
inquisitive  disposition  stole  up  to  the  door, 
and  would  have  entered  had  not  the  beadle's 
eagle  eye  detected  its  intention. 

Rising,  he  stalked  across  the  church  and 
the  goat  fled  with  a  frightened  "Bah!"  just 
as  the  long  staff  would  have  descended  upon 
its  back. 

The  dignified  old  man  stood  a  moment 
scowling  at  the  animal  who  had  taken  refuge 
in  the  church  yard,  then  turning  to  resume 
ti8o] 


The  Bay 

his  seat,  caught  sight  of  the  sleepers.  Down 
came  the  staff  on  the  head  of  each  offender 
in  succession,  and  the  children,  less  fortunate 
than  the  goat,  sat  up  ti  Mi  a  start  and  rubbed 
their  sore  heads. 

Quamin  pitied  them  but  could  not  help 
smiling  at  the  sight  of  their  pouting  lips  and 
the  angry  looks  they  cast  at  the  beadle. 

The  service  being  now  over,  he  rose  and 
went  out  with  the  rest  of  the  congregation 
and  at  the  gate  was  surprised  to  find  Harry 
and  a  girl  whom  he  recognised  as  a  cake- 
seller  of  the  Bay,  in  earnest  conversation. 
Harry  greeted  his  friend  with  a  nod,  while 
Cubenna,  his  companion,  tossed  her  heac 
contemptuously  and  continued  her  conver- 
sation. Quamin,  taking  the  hint  that  he 
was  not  wanted,  returned  Harry's  nod  and 
passed  them  by  in  silence. 

This  girl  soon  became  a  constant  visitor 
at  the  home  of  the  boys  and  for  some  time 
Quamin  had  taken  her  arrival  as  the  signal 
for  his  departure;  but  when  the  visits  became 

[I8l] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


a  daily  occurrence,  he  rebelled.  He  was 
paying  half  the  rent  of  the  room  and  was 
therefore  entitled  to  remain  in  it  according 
to  his  own  convenience;  so  when  she  came 
again  he  did  not  leave,  and  staying,  made 
a  discovery  that  astonished  him. 

Harry  and  the  girl,  after  waiting  patiently 
for  some  time  to  see  if  Quamin  would  go 
and  finally  deciding  that  he  had  no  such 
intention,  held  a  whispered  consultation 
which  resulted  in  Harry  bringing  from  a  deal 
box  hidden  under  the  bed,  a  pack  of  cards 
and  a  bottle  of  rum. 

The  two  sat  gambling  and  drinking  until 
Harry  had  lost  his  week's  wages  to  his  com- 
panion, then  he  rose  and  putting  away  the 
cards  and  bottle,  went  out  with  the  girl  into 
the  night. 

For  some  time  Quamin  refused  all  invi- 
tations to  join  in  these  orgies,  but  he  was 
after  all  only  human,  and  at  last  they  had 
their  way  as  far  as  gambling  went,  but  with 
rum  they  could  not  tempt  him. 

[182] 


The  Bay 

One  evening  while  the  three  were  deep  in 
a  game  of  cards,  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
door;  Harry  opened  it  and  in  walked  a  short, 
thick-set  sailor  with  a  pair  of  blue  serge 
trousers  ■    er  his  arm. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Harry,  I  hope  I  don't 
intrude?"  he  said  with  a  look  and  sly  wink  at 
the  other  two  seated  at  the  table. 

"No,  sah,  no  Missa  Jacob,"  said  Harry 
closing  the  door,  "please  sit  down,  sah?"  he 
continued,  pointing  to  the  seatless  chair. 
The  sailor  laughed  and  picking  up  a  board 
which  lay  by  the  chair  and  was  meant  for 
that  purpose,  placed  it  across  the  seat  and 
sat  down  carefully. 

"I  want  you  to  mend  these  trousers  for 
me;  can  you  do  it  and  let  me  have  them  by 
mid-day  to-morrow?" 

"Oh!  yes,  sah.  I  sure  can  do  dat.  Meek 
me  see  dem,  sah?" 

The  sailor  threw  the  trousers  over  to  Harry 
who   after   examining   them   again   assured 
their  owner  that  they  could  be  easily  mended 
(183] 


t; 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

by  the  time  required.  Then  he  invited  Mr. 
Jacob  to  try  his  hand  at  a  game  of  cards  to 
which  the  sailor  readily  agreed,  only  stipulat- 
ing that  he  must  leave  at  nine  o'clock,  that 
being  the  hour  he  was  due  on  board  his  boat 
now  riding  at  anchor  in  the  harbour. 

After  a  few  games  had  been  played  of  which 
Quamin  had  been  most  frequently  the  winner, 
Harry  produced  the  bottle  of  rum,  while 
Cubenna,  at  his  bidding,  collected  all  the 
drinking  utensils  and  dipped  up  some  fresh 
water  from  the  pail  with  a  quart  jug. 

Mr.  Jacob  accepted  his  grog  without  hesita- 
tion, but  when  Harry  pushed  a  can  of  the 
same  to  Quamin,  the  boy  shook  his  head, 
saying: 

"You  know  dat  I  doan  drink  rum." 

The  sailor  laughed  derisively  and  Harry 
and  Cubenna  joined  in. 

"You  know,  Missa  Jacob,  Quamin  goin' 
turn  parson  as  soon  as  him  done  lam  de  tailor- 
in'  business,  so  of  course  him  earn  drink 
rum." 

[184] 


"My  boy,"  said  Mr.  Jacob  solemnly  as  he 
drained  his  mug,  "you  will  never  be  a  man 
until  you  know  the  taste  of  spirits;  just  try 
it  and  see." 

He  put  his  hand  affectionately  on  Quamin's 
shoulder  and  the  boy  could  not  resist  the 
white  man's  influence.  Timidly  he  raised 
the  tin  mug  to  his  lips  and  tasting  found  it 
good,  but  fearful  of  its  effects  which  he  had 
seen  more  than  once  on  Harry  and  Cubenna, 
drank  only  half  the  contents  of  the  cup,  and 
the  game  went  merrily  on. 

Again  Harry  passed  the  drink  around  and 
Quamin's  cup,  now  empty,  was  filled  without 
protest,  for  the  boy  was  already  weU  under 
the  influence  of  liquor  and  no  longer  aware 
of  how  much  he  was  drinking.  At  last, 
unable  to  play  any  longer,  he  threw  his  cards 
on  the  table  and  rising  staggered  away  to  the 
bed,  seeing  which  Harry's  eyes  shone  with 
triumph. 

The  boy  lay  in  a  drunken  sleep  while  the 
other  three  kept  the  game  going  far  into  the 
(185] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


night,  sometimes  one  winning,  sometimes 
the  other  until  the  sailor  had  lost  all  the 
money  he  carried  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
Spanish  coins  from  Brazil,  and  in  drunken 
anger  accused  Harry  of  cheating. 

A  quarrel  quickly  arose  and  the  two  men 
were  soon  fighting  like  wild  beasts.  The 
sailor  being  by  far  the  more  powerful  would 
have  surely  got  the  better  of  his  antagonist 
had  he  been  less  drunk,  and  even  as  it  was, 
Harry's  strength,  never  very  remarkable,  was 
giving  out  when  Cubenna,  who  had  watched 
the  fight  from  a  far  comer  of  the  room,  ran 
forward,  a  long  butcher  knife  belonging  to 
Quamin  in  her  hand. 

The  tailor's  apprentice  grasped  the  weapon 
and  sent  it  up  to  the  hilt  in  the  body  of  his 
antagonist. 

With  a  groan  the  sailor  fell  dead  to  the 
floor,  while  Harry  stood  over  him,  the  drip- 
ping knife  still  in  his  hand.  Suddenly  he 
gave  a  cry  of  fear  as  the  realisation  of  what 
he  had  done  came  to  him. 

[I86l 


The  Bay 

"  Cubenna !  Cubenna ! "  he  called  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  "I  kill  him!" 

The  girl  stood  looking  down  at  the  dead 
man,  then  she  kicked  the  corpse  with  her 
bare  foot  saying: 

"Wat  matter  if  you  do  so  long  as  nobody 
doanknow  'bout  it?  We  mus '  hide  de  body 
dat'sall." 

"But  how  we  goin'  to  hide  it?"  asked  the 
man,  unable  to  devise  any  helpful  plan. 

"Come  meek  we  bury  it  at  de  sea-shore," 
said  the  girl,  "de  night  is  so  dark  dat  not  a 
soul  goin'  see  we,  an'  I  wiU  help  you  carry 
him  down. " 

So  saying,  she  stooped  and  rifling  the  corpse 
of  a  silver  watch  and  the  Brazilian  gold, 
took  hold  of  the  dead  man's  feet,  motioning 
Harry  to  his  head.  Thus  they  made  their 
way  through  the  darkness  of  tue  night  with 
many  stumbles  to  the  sea-shore,  where  their 
burden  was  deposited  while  they  sought  a 
suitable  spot  for  the  grave;  this  they  found  in 
some  soft  sand  overgrown  with  vines.  With 
[187] 


The  Story  of  Quarnin 


the  hoe  and  machettc  which  Cubenna  quickly 
brought  from  the  house,  they  soon  had  a 
shallow  grave  dug,  the  dead  man  was 
lifted  in,  his  body  pinned  to  the  ground 
by  a  stake  driven  through  the  middle  of 
it,  and  covered  with  sand;  the  vines  were 
carefully  replaced  and  the  two  returned 
to  the  house  to  remove  all  further  traces  of 
the  murder. 

While  they  were  wiping  the  blood  from  the 
rough  floor,  a  bright  idea  came  to  Cubenna. 
SpeaJdng  in  a  whisper  that  she  might  not 
waken  Quamin,  she  said: 

"Meek  we  go  'way  to-night,  den  w'en 
mamin'  come  you  can  come  back  an'  if 
dem  ask  you,  say  you  know  not'ing  'bout  de 
business.  De  ship  goin'  to  sail  at  daylight 
and  perhaps  deir'.  doan  bodder  to  come  look 
for  de  sailor  man  again." 

Harry  consented  to  this  plan  and  the  two 
hurriedly  finished  their  cleaning  and  throwing 
the  blood-stained  house-cloth  into  the  sea, 
they  washed  from  their  hands  all  traces  of 

[188] 


the  horrible  deed  and  quietly  crept  away  in 
the  darkness. 

The  ship  did  not  sail  away  at  daylight  as 
Cubenna  had  expected,  and  when  Harry 
returned  to  the  house  early  in  the  morning, 
he  found  an  officer  from  the  Salome  knock- 
ing  at  the  door. 

As  he  came  up  the  officer  asked  if  this 
was  where  a  tailor's  apprentice  named  Harry 
Murdoch  lived. 

"  I  am  de  apprentice,  sah. "  said  the  mulatto 
opening  the  door  and  stepping  inside.  The 
officer  followed  him. 

"Did  a  sailor  named  Jacob  come  to  you 
last  evening  with  a  pair  of  trousers  to  be 
mended?" 

"Yes,  sah;  here  is  de  trousers,  sah,"  he 
said,  picking  up  the  garment  frora  where 
it  stiU  lay  on  the  arm  of  the  rocking 
chair. 

"Yes,  those  are  the  very  ones.  Now  can 
you  tell  me  where  Jacob  went  after  he  left 
here?" 

[189] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


A  grey  shade  crept  over  the  guilty  man's 
face,   but   he  answered  boldly: 

"No,  sah.  Missa  Jacob  an'  Quamin  did 
begin  to  play  card  an'  Missa  Jacob  get  vex 
because  he  say  Quamin  was  cheating  him  an' 
dem  was  on  strong  quarrelling  w'en  I  lef 
to  go  see  one  of  me  frien'." 

"  Who  is  Quamin? "  tuisked  the  oflScer  mysti- 
fied. 

"See  him  lying  down  dere  in  de  bed,  sah. 
I  t'ink  Quamin  drink  too  much  rum  las' 
night  an'  him  sleepin'  still." 

The  officer  went  over  to  the  bed  and  shook 
Quamin  roughly  by  the  shoulder. 

"Here,  wake  up  and  tell  me  what  became 
of  Jacob  after  he  left  you?" 

The  boy  sat  up  slowly  and  put  his  hand  to 
his  head.  His  face  was  swollen,  his  eyes 
bloodshot,  and  the  sight  of  the  officer  startled 
him.  In  answer  to  the  question  put  to  him 
Quamin  could  only  recall  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  playing  cards  with  Harry  and  Cu- 
benna  and  the  sailor  when  a  deadly  sickness 
[190] 


The  Bay 


seized  him  and  stumbling  to  the  bed  he  had 
lapsed  into  unconsciousness. 

As  Harry   listened  to    this,    he    laughed 
mockingly  and  turning  to  the  officer  said: 
"De  boy  drunk  still,  sah,  for  Cubenna 
wasn't  here  at  all  las'  night." 

Quamin  stared  stupidly  at  Harry  as  though 
trying  to  decide  whether  this  was  lying  on 
the  part  of  his  friend  or  his  own  memory  at 
fault. 

Just  then  the  officer  caught  sight  of  the 
butcher  knife  which  had  been  overlooked 
by  the  girl  and  the  man  the  night  before,  and 
lay  on  the  floor  a  blood-stained  and  tragic 
witness  to  the  murder. 

The  officer  wheeled  round  to  Harry  and 
pointing  to  the  door  said: 

"Go  and  tell  the  Inspector  that  I  want 
him  here  at  once. " 

The  boy  obeyed  without  question,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  returned  with  the  head  of  the 
police  force  and  his  pet  bull-dog. 
"Good-morning,   sir,    good-morning!"  he 
(191J 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


said,  saluting  the  officer  of  marines.  "  What 
is  the  trouble?" 

As  he  listened  to  the  story,  his  somewhat 
debonair  manner  changed  to  one  of  stern 
interest. 

"We  must  search  the  premises,"  he  said, 
and  leaving  Harry  to  keep  guard  over  the 
suspected  murderer,  the  two  officers  ransacked 
the  room,  discovering  the  blood-staim  ^ 
spot  which  Cube,  -.a  had  only  partially 
cleaned. 

The  bull-dog  sniffing  at  the  spot,  howled 
dolefully,  and  running  to  the  door  leading  to 
the  beach,  tried  to  push  it  open  with  his  fore 
paws. 

The  Inspector  opened  it  and  the  dog 
bounded  out  and  followed  the  pcth  to  the  sea, 
where  he  ran  about  whining  with  his  nose  to 
the  ground.  At  last  he  found  where  the  dead 
man  lay  buried  and  began  scratching  the 
sand  away.  The  Inspector  cast  a  significant 
look  at  the  officer  as  they  hastened  to  the 
spot.  The  grave,  hastily  made,  was  not 
[192] 


The  Bay 

deep   and   soon   they  had  fount!   vl-a.t  they 
sought,  a  gruesome  sight  enough. 

The  case  came  before  the  courts  and  on  the 
day  of  the  trial  Quamin  stood  in  the  docks, 
his  eyes  riveted  to  the  ground,  for  he  dared 
not  look  at  the  little  group  of  broken-hearted 
friends  who  waited  in  miserable  anxiety. 
At  last  the  judge  rose. 
"Daniel  Belteshazzar  Fielding,  you  are 
found  guilty  of  murder. " 

There  was  a  scream  and  confusion  in  one 
corner  of  the  court  room,  then  two  constables 
lifted  Nana  Dreckett  from  where  she  had 
fallen  and  carried  her  out. 

Quasheba,  who  was  with  her,  did  not  fol- 
low them,  but  remained  chained  to  the  spot. 
She  must  hear  it  all  to  the  bitter  end;  must 
be  there  to  send  a  last  loving  look  at  the 
prisoner  before  he  was  taken  out. 

In  reply  to  the  judge's  question  if  he  had 

anything  to  say  in  his  own  defence,  Quamin 

hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  in  a  scarcely 

audible  voice  murmured  rather  than  said, 

(•93) 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

"  Not  guilty,  you'  Honour, "  but  in  truth  he 
was  by  no  means  sure  of  his  own  innocence 
and  rendered  doubly  miserable  by  the  doubt. 

The  judge  stood  irresolute,  then  proceeded 
with  the  sentence.  The  prisoner  had  been 
recommended  to  the  mercy  of  the  court  in 
consideration  of  his  youth  and  former  good 
character,  therefore  the  sentence  had  been 
commuted  to  life  imprisonment. 

With  his  head  still  drooping,  the  boy  was 
walked  away  between  two  constables  through 
the  throngs  of  people  who  had  collected  to 
hear  the  case,  to  the  sea-shore  where  a  boat 
waited  to  row  him  out  to  the  coastal  steamer 
bound  for  Kingston. 

A  few  yards  from  the  shore  the  prisoner 
turned  to  take  a  farewell  look  at  the  white 
streets  of  the  town  where  he  had  found  both 
pleasure  and  misery.  Catching  sight  of  Qua- 
sheba,  he  lifted  his  manacled  hands  and 
tried  to  wave  to  her,  while  the  girl,  drowned 
in  tears,  dragged  the  bandanna  handkerchief 
from  her  head  and  returned  his  salutation. 

[194] 


Ifc. 


Once  on  board  the  boat,  he  was  locked  into 
a  cabm  to  which  he  had  been  conducted  by 
one  of  the  constai  !es  and  a  ship's  officer.  As 
they  were  leaving  the  cabin  the  latter  said 
to  the  constable: 
"What  about  that  port-hole?" 
''Oh!  dat  is  all  right,  sah,"  replied  the 
other,  "him  is  from  de  mountains  an'  earn 
swim  even  if  him  could  get  t 'rough  de  port- 
hole. " 

The  officer  was  satisfied,  and  going  out 
turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 

Quamin,  left  to  himself,  bowed  his  head 
upon  his  hands  and  gave  way  to  the  misery 
which  possessed  his  soul.  He  almost  wished 
the  judge  had  condemned  him  to  death,  for 
the  thought  of  a  life  spent  behind  the  bars  of 
a  prison  appalled  this  wild,  freedom  loving 
boy.  His  grandmother's  scream  still  rang 
in  his  ears  and  Quasheba's  tear-stained  face 
haunted  him. 

How  long  he  sat  thus  he  knew  not,  but 
the  turning  of  the  key  in  the  lock  roused  him 
[195] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


as  me  of  the  constables  came  in  with  his 
evening  allowance  of  bread  and  water.  No 
words  were  exchanged  but  the  man  pitied 
the  boy  while  not  daring  to  show  his  feel- 
ings. 

Quamin  tried  to  swallow  a  piece  of  bread 
but  it  was  of  no  use  and  he  threw  it  back  on 
the  tin  plate  and  once  more  lost  himself  in 
thought. 

The  ship's  bells  had  struck  the  hour  of 
midnight  and  still  Quamin  had  not  moved; 
then  the  voice  of  the  officer  who  had  locked 
him  into  his  cabin  prison  rang  out  on  the 
clear  night  air.  Quamin  started.  The  con- 
versation about  the  port-hole  recurred  to  his 
memory  and  with  it  came  an  inspiration. 

With  something  like  his  old  energy,  the 
prisoner  jumped  to  his  feet  and  measuring  on 
his  arm  the  width  of  the  port-hole,  laid  his 
improvised  yard-stick  across  his  chest  and 
smiled  joyously  to  see  that  th(  space  wouii 
admit  of  his  body  passing  through  with  a 
little  squeezing.     Quickly  he  stripped  him- 


[1961 


The  Bay 


self  and  tying  his  shirt  and  trousers,  the  only 
articles  of  clothing  that  he  wore,  in  a  tight 
bundle,  he  took  this  between  his  teeth  and 
swinging  himself  feet  first  through  the  narrow 
opening,  dropped  gently  into  the  moonlit 
sea,  without  arousing  the  officer  on  the  bridge, 
and  nothing  was  known  of  the  prisoner's 
escape  until  morning  showed  the  empty  cabin. 


[1971 1 


XVI 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 

^^EARS  had  passed  since  Quamin's  con- 
*  demnation  and  no  trace  of  him  having 
been  found,  the  matter  passed  into  the  back- 
ground of  all  memories  excepting  those  to 
whom  the  boy  had  been  very  dear. 

Nana  Dreckett  recovered  from  the  illness 
which  followed  the  trial,  and  wont  about  her 
duties  much  as  usual,  but  she  stooped  a  little 
now  and  never  went  far  without  a  stout 
walking  stick  to  lean  upon. 

Constantino  came  often  to  see  her  and  the 
talk  almost  always  turned  upon  the  dead 
boy,  for  such  they  believed  Quamin  to  be. 
The  affair  had  been  clothed  in  mystery  and 
there  were  some  among  the  dwellers  in  the 
hills  who  had  openly  expressed  dissatisfaction 
at  the  course  taken  by  justice. 
I198I 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 


Harry  had  never  been  a  favourite  with 
them,  and  at  his  door  some  of  the  blame  for 
Quamin's  arrest  had  been  laid;  therefore 
when  one  day  Barabas  returned  from  the  Bay 
with  the  news  that  Harry  and  Cubenna,  now 
his  wife,  had  bought  the  shop  at  the  cross- 
roads and  would  instal  themselves  there 
shortly,  the  information  was  received  with 
cold  surprise. 

The  shopkeeper's  life  became  a  burden  un- 
der the  running  fire  of  questions  to  which  he 
was  subjected  by  his  customers  and  all  the 
explanation  that  he  had  to  give  was  that 
Harry  had  offered  him  good  money  for  the 
shop  of  which  he  was  tired  and  wanted  a 
change. 

To  Quasheba  the  coming  of  Harry  and 
"dat  yallah  snake,"  as  she  designated  Cu- 
benna, was  a  veritable  misfortune  for  she 
would  have  no  choice  but  to  patronise  them, 
since  the  shop  was  the  only  one  of  its  kind 
within  miles. 

Barabai.,  now  head  pennkeeper  in  place  of 
[199I 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


Samuel,  married  and  gone  to  another  part 
of  the  Island,  was  one  of  the  girl's  most 
devoted  admirers  and  came  in  very 
handy  now  to  run  errands  for  her  since 
she  had  determined  never  to  enter  the 
premises  of  her  enemies  unless  forced  to 
do  so. 

He  came  every  night  *-o  see  the  lady  of  his 
love  and  tell  her  all  the  local  gossip,  never 
murmiuing  when,  in  return,  she  only  con- 
verted him  into  an  errand  boy. 

Sitting  together  one  night  at  the  door  of 
the  house,  Barabas  remarked: 

"You  know,  Quasheba,  dem  say  dat  Harry 
is  as  rich  as  de  King  of  Englan'." 

The  girl  sucked  her  teeth  scornfully. 

"  Dem  too  fool;  tell  me  w'ere  him  could  get 
so  much  money?" 

"Dem  say  him  fin'  one  of  ^-^  ole  Spaniard 
jar  bury  in  de  yard  of  him  house  an'  it  did 
full  of  gol'   money." 

"I  believe  dem  is  tellin'  lie,  for  if  Harry 
ever  fin'  a  t'ing  like  dat,  him  would  n'  res' 
(200] 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 

till  him  show  it  to  everybody  to  meek  dem 

see  how  smart  him  is." 

"  But  him  show  two  of  de  gol '  piece  to  some 

man  at  de  shop  an'  dem  say  is  Spaniard  gol • 

for  true.  Go  ask  Busha  den  if  you  doan  be- 
lieve me,  for  de  man  dem  tell  him  'bout  it  too. " 
"De  firs'  time  I  see  Cousin  Constantino 
I  gom'  to  ask  him,  because  Harry  was  Boas'ie 
Gordon  boas'  puss  from  time  an'  maybe  him 
t  lef  de  money  but  him  never  fin'  no  Spaniard 
jar." 

"  AU  right,  missis,  hab  it  you'  own  fashion  " 
rephed  the  long-suffering  Barabas  rising  to  go 
'me  only  teUin'  you  w'at  me  hoar." 

Long  after  her  lover  had  gone  Quasheba 
sat  lost  in  thought.  Barabas  had  whetted 
her  curiosity  and  she  longed  to  get  a  peep  at 
those  golden  coins  buried  long  ago  at  the  time 
of  the  English  occupation,  by  some  wealthy 
Spamard;  so  ran  the  negro  superstition,  and 
in  spite  of  her  asserted  disbelief  in  the  story 
the  giri  did  not  discredit  the  possibility  of 
such  a  find,  and  burned  to  know  more. 
[201J 


It 

11  i 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

When,  therefore,  Barabas  called  again,  he 
was  surprised  that  Quasheba  bad  no  com- 
missions for  him  to  execute  at  the  shop,  but 
she  did  not  revert  to  their  conversation  of 
the  evening  before  and  he  left  her  little 
dreaming  that  there  was  any  connec- 
tion. 

The  next  afternoon  Quasheba  dressed  her- 
self carefully  and  as  well  as  her  limited  ward- 
robe permitted  and  with  a  .'iilling  tied  in  the 
comer  of  her  handkcrchiei ,  set  out  to  make 
a  few  small  purchases  at  the  shop.  Con- 
sidering all  the  trouble  she  had  taken  with  her 
toilet,  it  was  disappointing  to  find  no  one 
there  but  a  little  coloured  boy,  who  neverthe- 
less served  her  deftly,  and  just  as  she  was 
about  to  leave  the  place,  a  question  occur- 
red to  her. 

"  Who  live  in  dat  new  house  de  oder  side  of 
de  gully  over  dere?" 

"  Dat  is  Missa  Murdoch  house,  ma'm,"  the 
boy  replied  and  Quasheba  hesitated  a  moment 
as  though  about  to  ask  for  more  information, 
[202] 


m 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 

but  thinking  better  of  it.   she  wished   the 
boy  a  curt  good-evening  and  went  out. 

A  bar  of  soap  was  among  her  purchases  and 
th.s  the  boy  had  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  gaily 
coloured  paper,  the  brilliancy  of  which  caught 
Quashcba's  eye.  She  carefully  removed  the 
paper  and  smoothing  out  the  creases,  gazed 
m  wonder  and  amusement  at  the  picture  of  a 
jack-lantern  which  it  displayed. 

"Dis  come  out  of  Big  Miss-'s'  gran 'chile 
book,  dat  I  know;  but  Lard!  de  some'ting 
ugly  for  true  an'  'nough  to  frighten  any  pick- 
'ney  an'  give  him  fits." 

Looking  up  she  spied  Barabas  who.  as 
usual  at  this  hour,  was  on  his  way  to  the 
evemng  tryst,  and  leisurely  the  girl  replaced 
the  paper  round  the  soap,  not  wishing  to 
attract  the  man's  attention  to  her  action. 
"How  come  you  to  go  to  de  shop  you 'self 
to-night,   Quasheba?"  he  asked. 

"Oh!  me  moder  teck  a  fancy  for  arrowroot 
pap;  you  know  she  well  mack-an-peckish. 
[fanciful]  now,  an'  I  could n'  wait  till  to- 
[203] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


marra  for  you  to  buy  it  for  me,  so  has  to  go 
meself." 

"Wat  Harry  an*  de  yallah  snake  say  to 
you?"  inquired  the  man. 

"I  did  n'  see  eider  of  dem.  De  boy  sarvo 
me  an'  him  tell  me  dat  de  new  house  over  de 
gully  belongs  to  Harry." 

"Yes,  an'  I  hear  dat  dere  is  wonderful 
t'ings  doin'  in  dat  house  after  dark." 

"Wat  sort  of  t'ings?"  asked  the  girl 
quickly. 

"  I  doan  know  rightly  meself,  but  you  know 
Harry  is  a  sort  of  obeahman,  an'  I  hear  dat 
him  an'  him  wife  'pon  strong  countin'  of  de 
Spaniard  money  every  night  since  dem  come 
an'  cam  finish  it  yet." 

"Lard!"  exclaimed  Quasheba,  impressed 
in  spite  of  herself.  She  was  very  thoughtful 
the  rest  of  the  way  home,  answering  her  lover 
in  monosyllables,  and  when  they  reached  the 
house,  left  him  abruptly,  to  attend  to  the 
wants  of  her  mother  and  grandmother,  she 
said. 

[204] 


He  sat  on  the  bench  outside   the  house 
smok.ng   and   meditating   on   the   ways   of 

wonjen  in  general  and  this  one  in  particular 
unfl  she  reappeared,  smiling  now,  and  seated 
herself  beside  him. 

Barabas-  hopes  rose  at  a  bound.  He  had 
never  known  Quasheba  like  this  before  and 
wondered  :f  this  ehangeableness  betokened 
the  dawn  of  love. 

Timidly  he  slipped  his  arm  round  her  waist 
and  contrary  to  custom,  she  let  it  stay  there. 
The  opportunity  now  seemed  too  good  to  be 
OS  .and  Quasheba  listened  in  demure  silence 
to  the  love-making  of  this  primitive  man. 

Will   yo     r,;,;,,.,^   ^g_    Quasheba.'"    he 
asked  at  1.  .,„,,,,,  ,^^,.^^  ^^^^  ^j^. 

going  a  „tt,e  too  far.  farther  at  any  rate  than 
she  ^altogether  hked.  drew  away  from  him 

"I  doan  know  'bout  dat  now.     You  mus' 
wait  firs  . 

"All  right,  me  dear,"  said  the  lover,  sure 
enough  of  his  game  to  be  willing  to  wait  if 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


(! 


that  was  what  his  mistress'  desired,  and  rose 
to  go.  Grown  bold,  he  stooped  and  kissed 
her  without  leave. 

Quasheba  qmckly  drew  her  sleeve  across 
her  lips,  but  said  nothing,  and  on  his  next 
visit  he  would  have  greeted  her  in  Uke  manner 
but  the  girl  waved  him  off. 

"Pramise  me  somet'ing  firs'"  she  com- 
manded. 

"Wat  is  it?"  he  asked. 
"Guess,"  said  she. 

"  I  doan  know  w  'at  you  want  me  to  pramise 
you,  onless  you  jealous  o£  how  I  go  to  see 
Janet  Lacklin  an'  doan  want  me  to  go  derc 
no  more,"  smilingly  said  the  too  confident 
Barabas,  but  Quasheba  sucked  her  teeth  and 
tossed  her  head  disdainfully. 

"Me  jealous!  you  will  never  see  dat  day! 
I  want  you  to  do  somet'ing  for  me." 

"Tell  me  w'at  it  is?"  queried  the  man,  a 
little  disappointed,  "an"  if  I  can  do  it,  I  will." 
"  Go  to  de  gully  wid  me  to-night, "  said  the 
girl  boldly,  watching  his  face  the  while. 

[206] 


The  S    ,p  Changes  Hands 


"Go  to  de  gully  wid  you  to-night?"  he 
repeated  incredulously.  "  W  'at  you  want  to 
go  to  de  gully  for?" 

"Never  min'.  Say  you  wiU  go  an'  den 
you  will  fin' out." 

"All  right,  if  you  want  to  go,  but  I  doan 
has  no  fancy  for  dat  duppy  walk  at  all,  at  all 
at  night  time." 

"  Well,  I  goin  •  see  w -at  Harry  an  ■  de  yallah 
snake  doin'  an'  I  goin'  watch  dem  t 'rough 
dat  winder  dat  doan  finish  yet." 
Barabas  gasped. 

"Lard  a'  massey!  Quasheba,  you  mus'  be 
makin'  poppyshow  w'en  you  say  dat;  I  doan 
beheve  say  you  mean  it." 

"I  mean  it  for  true;  but  if  you  'fraid  to 
come,  say  so  at  once  an'  I  will  go  by  meself  an' 
you  can  go  'bout  you'  business." 

The  girl  indignantly  turned  on  her  hee' 
and  was  about  to  enter  the  house  when  Bara- 
bas stopped  her. 

"Quasheba,    I    will    go    wid    you     but 
you  know  if  Harry  fin'  out,  him  will  set 
I207J 


■  I   . 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

obeah  for  we,  an'  den  we  jus'  as  good  as 
dead." 

"Chow!  Harry  know  as  much  'bout 
obeah  as  me  grannie  mauger  goat.  You 
comin'  or  not?" 

"Yes,  I  comin',"  meekly  responded  the 
man. 

She  went  into  the  house  once  again  and 
came  out  deltly  balancing  on  her  head  a 
bundle  and  carrying  an  umbrella. 

"Wat  you  got  in  de  bundle?"  asked  her 
lover. 

"Shut  you'  mout'  an'  pull  you'  foot  [walk 
fast], "  she  exclaimed,  and  they  started  out  at 
a  brisk  pace. 

By  the  time  the  gully  was  reached  it  had 
grown  dark  and  Quasheba  was  suffering  in- 
ward qualms,  but  she  kept  them  to  herself 
and  assimied  a  fine  scorn  of  Barabas'  evident 
palpitations. 

Down  the  side  of  the  gully  they  scrambled, 
the  bundle  still  balanced  on  the  girl's  head, 
across  the  rocky  ravine  which  after  a  heavy 
[jo8l 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 

rain  became  a  raging  torrent,  and  up  the  steep 
bank  on  the  other  side  where  stood  the  hut. 
A  gleam  of  light  shone  between  the  wattled 
waUs,  and  the  two  creeping  cautiously  by 
came  to  a  halt  behind  some  immense  tree 
ferns.  Here  Quasheba  lifted  the  bundle  from 
her  head  and  proceeded  to  loosen  it. 

Barabas  watched  her  curiously  and  his 
wonder  grew  as  she  drew  forth  a  white  sheet, 
a  large  calabash  with  a  face  cut  on  it,  after 
the  manner  of  a  jack-lantern,  and  a  box  of 
matches.  Taking  a  piece  of  sheer  white 
material  from  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  she 
tied  it  over  the  calabash,  then  striking  a 
match,  she  lit  a  small  piece  of  a  candle,  set 
It  m  the  calabash  and  turned  the  ghastly 
object  towards  Barabas. 

The  man  yelled,  but  quickly  recovering 
himself,  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth  to  keep 
himself  quiet,  while  Quasheba  scolded  him 
in  a  wrathful  whisper. 

The  door  of  the  hut  opened  and  Harry 
peeped  cautiously  out. 

[ao9l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

"Bery  well! bery  well! me  did  tell  you  so." 
Whispered  Quasheba.  "You  see  dat  now? 
If  you  goin'  to  bawl  like  jackass  lost  him 
moder,  you  better  go  home." 

"I  won't  bawl  again,  Quasheba,  but  de 
contraption  dat  ugly  I  could  n't  help  meself . " 

The  door  was  closed  again  and  Quasheba, 
feeling  safe  once  more,  threw  the  sheet  over 
the  tip  of  '.e  umbrelk  which  she  inserted 
into  a  hole  Iri  the  lantern  made  for  the  purpose. 
Opening  the  umbrella,  she  held  it  over  her 
head  and  the  drooping  sheet  covered  her  dress 
to  the  hem. 

Upon  Barabas  a  light  had  broken,  and  he 
now  watched  Quasheba  with  undisguised 
admiration. 

"Now  come  wid  me,"  she  said,  and  to- 
gether they  crept  softly  towards  the  hut,  stop- 
ping close  by  the  unfinished  window.  The 
hut  had  been  hurriedly  built,  Harry  explaining 
that  it  was  only  for  their  temporary  use, 
and  the  wattled  walls  none  too  closely  woven. 
Through  one  of  these  spaces  Quasheba,  the 
[210I 


lkt&- 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 


umbrella  frame  resting  on  her  head,  che  sheet 
throwr  up  in  front,  could  watch  what  went  on 
mside.  while  Barabas  was  busy  at  another 
peep-hole. 

The  mulatto  and  his  wife  were  sitting  one 
on  either  side  of  a  rough  deal  table  on  which 
lay  a  silver  watch  and  a  few  golden  coins, 
and  to  the  astonishment  of  the  listeners,  they 
learned  that  these  two.  reputed  so  wealthy 
were,  m  truth,  poor  and  deeply  i„  debt  to  the 
merchant  in  the  Bay  from  whom  Harry  had 
replenished  the  stock  at  the  shop.      They 
were  now  anxiously    trying  to  decide  how 
they  could  change  into  native  coinage  the 
gold  that  lay  on  the  table. 
_    "  You  t  -ink,"  said  Cubenna,  "dat  if  we  teck 
.t  to  de  Bay  an'  tell  dem  we  fin'  it  bury  up 
here  m  de  mountain,  dem  will  believe  we?" 
"I  doan  know  'bout  dat.  for  I  never  hear 
no  talk  -bout  findin'  Spaniard  jar  in  de  moun- 
tam.  an'  if  dem  did  n't  believe  we  an'  ask  too 
much  question,  we  might  get  into  trouble." 
'Den  w'at  \\e  goin'  to  do?" 

[211] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


"I  doan  know,  onless  we  go  on  board  one 
steamer  an'  try  to  sell  dem  to  de  Bostan 
touris'  dem." 

"  Ahi !  so  for  true,  we  can  do  dat.  Meek  we 
go  soon,  Harry." 

"We  goin'  to-marra,  bitt  you  know  we  has 
to  'teck  softly  softly  ketch  monkey,'"  her 
husband  said,  using  a  well  known  negro 
proverb  which  translated  means,  "slow  and 
sure  win  the  day. " 

"  Perhaps  we  could  sell  de  watch  too, "  said 
Cubenna,  taking  it  up  and  examining  it. 

"No,"  replied  her  husband,  "Missa  Jacob 
name  write  'pon  de  case  an'  if  any  of  dem 
people  in  de  Bay  fin'  out  dat  we  got  dat  watch, 
we  free  paper  bum,  missis,  an'  dem  would  n' 
teck  long  to  fin'  out  is  me  an'  not  Quamin  dat 
kill  him." 

Quasheba  had  heard  every  word  of  this 
dialogue  and  trembled  so  that  her  knees 
knocked  together.  Plucking  at  Barabas' 
sleeve,  she  whispered: 

"You  hear  w'at  dem  say?" 

[2121 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 


The  man  nodded  and  continued  to  Usten 
while  Quasheba.  her  heart  beating  to  suffoca- 
tion, returned  her  eyes  to  the  hole. 

Harry  gathered  up  the  coins  and  watch 
and  put  them  into  a  small  iron  box  which  he 
locked  away  in  a  trunk.  The  rum  bottle  was 
now  brought  to  light  and  the  two  fell  to 
drinking. 

For  a  long  time  the  eavesdroppers  waited, 
but  when  it  became  evident  that  no  more  in- 
formation would  be  forthcoming,  Quasheba. 
whose  composure  had  returned,  Ufted  the 
draped  umbrella  and  calabash  head  to  the 
window,  at  the  same  time  uttering  stifled 
moans. 

Cubenna,  who  had  been  sitting  with  her 
back  to  the  window,  looked  around  quickly 
and  encountering  the  ghostly  object  with  its 
gnnmng  fiery  teeth,  screamed,  and  Harry 
looking  up  hastily,  saw  what  he  took  to  be 
the  sailor's  ghost  come  to  haunt  him,  and 
dived  under  the  bed. 
Cubenna  sat  huddled  up  on  her  seat,  too 

[313] 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


frightened  to  do  more  than  turn  her  back  on 
the  ghost  who,  after  folding  and  unfolding 
its  arms  a  few  times,  uttered  a  piercing 
shriek  and  disappeared. 

Quasheba  emerged  from  beneath  her  dis- 
guise laughing  at  the  remembrance  of  Harry's 
legs  sticking  out  from  under  the  bed,  and 
Cubenna's  co*ering  form. 

"Lard!  Barabas,  w'ere  is  you'  obeahman 
now?"  she  asked  as  they  hurried  back  to  the 
sheltering  tree  ferns. 

"Quasheba,  I  never  see  a  woman  so  strong- 
physic  strong-minded]  as  you  from  I  bom!" 
he  exclaimed.  "But  meek  has*  an'  come 
home  for  rain  fallin'  already  an'  big  storm 
comin'." 

It  was  the  work  of  a  minute  to  make  the 
sheet  and  calabash  again  into  a  bundle  and  the 
two  started  on  their  homeward  way.  Long 
before  they  reached  Cousin  'Lizbet's  house, 
the  storm  had  broken  and  both  were  drenched 
to  the  skin. 

"You  can  sleep  in  de  kitchen,  so  no  use 
[214] 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 

you  go  home  to  get  drown  altogedder  "  said 
Quasheba,  and  Barabas,  only  too  glad  to  be 
spared  the  long  walk  to  his  own  house  in  the 
darkness  and  storm,  accepted  gladly. 

The  hurricane  of  that  night  was  the  worst 
that  the  Island  had  known  for  many  years 
and  there  was  little  sleep  for  the  community 
who.  seeing  it  coming,  had  weighted  the 
thatched  roofs  of  their  cottages  with  heavy 
stones,  in  spite  of  which  many  of  them  had 
been  blown  away. 

Quasheba  was  early  astir  next  morning  to 
get  Barabas  some  hot  sugar  and  water  before 
he  left,  and  Cousin  'Lizbef  who  had  slept 
httle  and  pondered  much  during  the  night 
watches  on  her  granddaughter's  absence  of 
the  evemng  before,  was  also  up  and  doing,  just 
m  time  to  see  Barabas  disappearing  over  the 
brow  of  the  hill  on  which  the  cottage  stood. 
"Wat  you  doin-  out  so  late,   las'  night. 
Quasheba?"  she  demanded  sternly  as  the 
giri  came  in.  surprised  to  find  the  old  woman 
up. 


-t 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

"  I  did  go  to  de  shop,  Grannie,  an'  de  rain 
ketch  me  half  way  home,  so  I  has  to  save 
wedder  [seek  shelter]  in  one  house  on  de  road- 
side. " 

"Did  you  have  anybody  wid  you?" 

"No,  Grannie;  only  me  one,  an'  I  mos' 
frighten  to  deaf  wid  de  noise  de  t'under 
meckin'." 

"  Chile,  you  tellin'  lie,  for  I  hear  you  talkin' 
to  somebody  w'en  you  come  in  an'  I  jus'  see 
Barabas  gone  down  de  hillside." 

Quasheba,  like  the  rest  of  humanity,  hated 
to  be  caught  in  a  lie,  and  brushed  rudely  past 
her  grandmother  into  the  house,  mutter- 
ing: 

"C!e  woman  always  know  so  much!" 


"Cubenna!  Cubenna!"  came  a  timid 
whisper  from  under  the  bed,  "it  gone  yet?" 

"  Yes, "  replied  his  wife  '  but  who  know  if 
it  comin'  back  or  not?" 

"Doan  say  so,  Cubenna,"  pleaded  Harry 

[216! 


The  Shop  Changes  Hands 


in  anguish  at  the  horrid  possibility;  "give  me 
a  drink. " 

Cubenna  stooped  and  handed  the  bottle 
to  her  husband  who  was  still  concealed  under 
the  bed.  and  for  the  next  half  hour  the  woman 
sat  gazing  with  dread  at  the  window. 

The  wind  was  now  rising,  and  every  time 
U  blew  past  the  hut.  the  little  half  finished 
dwelling  rocked  in  an  alarming  manner,  and 
Cubenna  was  groi^-ing  afraid  to  remain  in  it 
any  longer. 

"Harry,"  she  called,  "meek  we  go  outside 
before  de  house  tumble  down." 

But  only  the  heavy  snoring  of  her  husband 
answered  her.  and  rising  she  crept  timidly 
to  the  door.  It  was  not  the  storm  she  feared, 
but  the  reappearance  of  the  "duppy"  who 
might  be  lurking  around  still. 

She  opened  the  door  quietly  and  peeped 

out.  but  there  was  nothing  save  the  heavy 

ramdrops  and  sighing  wind  to  greet  her.  and 

mto  this  she  stepped  bravely  enough. 

Just  then  a  gust  heavier  than  the  rest 

U17J 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

blew  against  the  hut  and  with  a  noise  as  of 
tearing  wood,  it  fell  to  the  ground  in  ruins. 
The  woman  fled  shrieking  into  the  darkness 
and  down  the  bank  of  the  gully,  nv-.,  realising 
in  her  frenzied  condition  the  dangers  of  such 
a  course. 

The  next  day,  when  the  storm  had  cleared 
away,  she  was  found  lying  at  the  bottom  of 
the  guiiv,  ''Mwned,  her  wet  garments  wound 
round  tfcc  stem  of  a  sapling,  while  the  body  of 
her  husband  lay  buried  beneath  the  debris 
of  the  ruined  hut. 


[ai8] 


XVII 


The  EzQe 

DELIEVING  Quamin  dead.  „o  effort  was 

made  to  find  him  and  the  young  fellow 

might  never  have  known  that  the  ban  of 

murderer  had  been  lifted  from  him  had  not  a 

tnflmg  incident  revealed  the  truth. 

Once  over  the  side  of  the  steamer,  he  had 
swum  under  water  for  a  short  distance  to 
escape  the  observation  of  the  officer  on  the 
bndge,  then  striking  out  boldly  for  the  shore 
reached  it  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  for  the 
distance  traver^  had  been  no  mean  one. 
Restmg  on  the  sandy  beach,  he  tried  to  decide 
upon  his  future  course  of  action. 

He  concluded  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  keep  close  to  the  sea-shore  where  he  could 
always  get  fish,  and  when  daylight  broke,  he 
found  to  his  great  jc-y  a  cave  beneath  a  pro- 
big) 


^1: 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


jecting  rock  in  which  he  might  lie  for  ever 
hidden. 

Close  by  was  a  grove  of  thatch  palms,  and 
with  the  leaves  of  these  he  soon  made  a  fish 
pot  which  he  set,  wading  as  far  out  as  he 
could,  then  returning  spread  his  clothes  on 
the  palm  trees  to  dry  and  retired  to  the  re- 
cesses of  the' cave  until  night-fall. 

Thus  he  lived  for  two  months,  and  then, 
judging  that  search  for  him  would  have  been 
abandoned,  he  decided  to  make  his  way  along 
the  coast  to  Montego  Bay,  where  a  steamer 
might  be  found  to  take  him  to  Colon. 

The  way  was  long  and  Quamin  found  it 
hard  work  tramping  at  night  and  living  on 
the  fruit  he  might  steal  or  the  fish  he  might 
catch,  but  at  last  Montego  Bay  was  reached 
and  fortune  favoured  him.  A  Royal  Mail 
steamer  was  making  ready  to  depart,  first 
to  England,  then  back  by  way  of  New  York 
to  Colon,  the  place  he  had  hit  upon  as  being 
most  likely  to  afford  him  shelter.  She  was 
short  of  hands  and  when  she  steamed  out 
[220] 


The  Exile 

of  harbour,  Quamin  went  with  her,  a  duly 
enrolled  member  of  the  crew. 

With  his  usual  adaptibility,  the  boy  had 
fitted  very  comfortably  into  life  at  busy 
Colon,  but  had  never  ceased  to  mourn  his 
ostracism  from  the  place  of  his  birth  and  the 
heart  of  his  friends,  and  every  time  that  a 
steamer  was  reported  coming  from  Jamaica, 
he  would  go  down  to  the  wharf,  and  himself 
hidden,  for  he  still  dreaded  detection,  would 
watch  the  passengers  landing,  eageriy  scan- 
ning each  face,  hoping  yet  dreading  to  see 
a  familiar  one  among  them. 

On  one  such  occasion  he  had  left  his  vantage 
ground  and  was  following  the  last  passenger 
up  the  street  when  a  newspaper  fell  from 
the  over-laden  hand  of  the  latter.  Quamin 
quickly  picked  it  up  and  politely  handed  it 
to  the  gentleman  who,  with  a  glance  at  the 
paper  said,  "  I  don't  want  it,  my  good  fellow," 
and  passed  on. 

Eagerly  the  boy  opened  the  paper,  for 
news  from  Jamaica  was  scarce  indeed  and 
[mi] 


t  - ' 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

the  first  thing  that  met  his  eye  was  a  bold 
headline,  "Daniel  Belteshazzar  Fielding  not 
Guilty."  Greedily  the  boy  read  on,  the 
whole  story  of  the  discovery  of  Harry's  guilt 
and  consequent  establishment  of  his  own 
innocence;  then  the  paper  fell  from  his  hand, 
and  divested  now  of  that  gravity  of  de- 
meanour which  had  marked  his  bearing  during 
his  term  of  exile,  the  young  man  reverted  in 
a  flash  to  the  old  joyous  ways  of  early  boy- 
hood and  there  in  the  public  street  stood  on 
his  head  for  joy. 

To  pack  his  belongings  was  the  work  of  a 
few  moments,  and  the  good  ship  which  had 
brought  him  news  of  his  freedom  carried 
Daniel  Belteshazzar  Fielding  back  to  Jamaica, 
a  passenger  this  time  with  a  well  filled  purse, 
for  money  had  been  easy  to  get  in  Colon. 


[222] 


U'   m 


XVIII 

The  Retura 

"you  know,"  said  Constantine  to  his 
*  sister  when  on  a  visit  to  her  a  few  days 
after  Quamin  had  set  sail  from  Colon  "dis 
mamin'  Big  Missis  show  me  a  strange  fing 
in  de  papers.  She  show  me  de  same  name 
as  Quamin  got  on  Je  lis'  of  passenger  on  one 
of  de  boat.    Now  how  come  dat?" 

Nana  Dreckett,  who  had  Ustened  with  in- 
terest, shook  her  head  slowly,  saying  despond- 
ently: 

"I  doan  know,  for  I  meek  up  dat  name 
for  meself  out  of  de  Book  an'  give  it  to 
Quamin. " 

Suddenly  her  manner  changed  and  she 
turned  to  her  brother  in  great  excite- 
ment. 

"Bredda,  you  fink  say  Quamin  Uvin'?" 
[223I 


isl^l^. 


^- 


The  Story  of  Quamin 

The  man  shook  his  head  and  taking  tho 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  answered  slowly: 

"No,  Nana,  Quamin  is  wid  de  Lard." 

The  voice  of  Quasheba  talking  to  her  grand- 
mother as  she  helped  the  old  woman  along, 
afforded  a  break  in  the  conversation  and  Nana 
rose  to  greet  her  old  friend. 

Presently  .  the  conversation  reverted  to 
what  Constantino  had  seen  in  the  paper  and 
Nana  Dreckelt  longingly  put  the  question 
as  to  the  possibility  of  Quamin's  being  yet 
alive,  to  Cousin  'Lizbet'. 

"For  you  know,  Cousin,  you  did  prophesy 
dat  him  would  be  a  mighty  preacher  an'  stan' 
by  de  altar  of  de  Lord." 

"  I  did  so,  Mrs.  Dreckett,"  replied  the  other 
with  much  dignity,  "an*  de  prophecy  has 
been  fulfil'." 

"How  so.  Cousin?" 

"Quamin  is  now  a  mighty  preacher  in 

Heaven,  for  las'  night  I  saw  in  a  vision  de  New 

Jerusalem,  an'  dere  was  Quamin  liftin'  up 

his  vice  an'  speakin'  to  de  multitude,  jus' 

[224I 


An'  w'at  more  do  you 


as  I  say  he  would, 
want,  sister?" 

This  was  cold  comfort  to  the  old  woman 
who  was  crying  quietly,  and  Quasheba  to 
console  her  said: 

"You  know.  Grannie,  dat  you'  vision  doan 

a  ways  nght  an- you  did  eat  a  powerful  lot 
of  blue  cocoa  la^'  night  before  you  go  to  bed." 
Chile,  replied  the  prophetess  severely, 
blue  cocoa  has  nofing  to  do  wid  vision  dat 
de  Lard  sen'.  Dem  as  come  from  de  Debbil 
I  icnow  nofing 'bout.    Come,  it  is  time  to  go 

Soon   Constantine  went   too.   and   Nana 
Dreckett.  left  alone.  Ut  her  little  lamp  and 
sought  a  panacea  for  her  aching  heart  in  the 
weU  worn  Bible  out  of  which  Quamin's  name 
had  been  chosen,  but  finding  reading  im- 
possible  through  her  fast  falling  tears,  she 
shut  the  book  and  fell  upon  her  knees  to 
pray,  pouring  out  her  heart's  sorrow  and 
disappointment  to  her  God  in  reverent  in- 
timacy. 

f«5l 


The  Story  of  Quamin 


So  engrossed  was  she,  that  the  gentle  rap- 
ping at  her  door  passed  unnoticed  and  Quamin 
had  to  let  himself  in. 

Silently  he  stood  at  the  door,  listening  to 
the  old  woman's  prayer  until  he  could  bear 
it  no  longer,  then,  with  tears  streaming  down 
his  face: 

"Grannie,  Grannie,"  he  said,  "I  come 
home!" 

Nana  Dreckett  rose  slowly  to  her  feet  and 
believing  the  boy  to  be  risen  from  the  dead, 
grew  afraid. 

"Lard  have  massey  on  me  dis  night!"  she 
murmured  and  would  have  fallen  had  he  not 
caught  her  in  his  arms.  Gently  he  placed  her 
on  the  chair  and  kneeling  beside  her,  took 
her  hands  between  his  own. 

"Grannie,  look  at  me.  It  is  not  duppy, 
but  me — Quamin.  I  never  drown  at  all  like 
dem  say  in  de  papers." 

Seven  years  later,  one  morning  when  Con- 
stantine  was  riding  through  the  pastures  to 

[226] 


The  Return 


his  sister's  house,  he  espied  two  Kttle  figures 
standing  at  the  pond  side,  the  one  holding  a 
tin  dipper,  the  other  a  long  stick.  The  man 
laughed  softly  and  said: 

"Jus"  so  dem  fader  an'  moder  used  to  do. 
It  IS  true  w'at  dem  say  in  de  Bible  dat  de  sin 
of  de  parents  come  down  to  de  children;  but 
ketchin'  bull-frog  is  only  a  fooUshness,  an'  no 
sin,  tenk  de  Lard!" 


[a27l 


Other  Tales 


["9l 


Mary  and  Marth 

nPHE  night  had  been  wet  and  stormy  and 
the  pastures  were  under  water,  the 
trees  bowed  down  by  the  weight  of  their 
sodden  leaves  looked  drowned  and  lifeless, 
the  birds  were  too  cold  and  damp  to  give' 
forth  more  than  a  feeble  chirp,  and  the  tree- 
toad  had  gone  to  rest  after  his  nocturnal 
labours.  AU  the  tropical  world  seemed  tired 
and  heavy-eyed  like  a  child  after  a  violent  fit 
of  weeping. 

By  an  akee  tree  stood  a  stalwart  negro 
man,  gazing  at  a  piece  of  rope  that  encircled 
Its  trunk.  At  last  he  gave  vent  to  his  feelings 
and  shaking  his  head  slowly  from  side  to  side, 
said: 

"WeU!  dafs  de  mos'  surprisin'  piece  of 
business  I  ever  see.  Dere  is  dat  hog  gone 
now  an-  it  was  dis  bery  day  dat  Missa  Ramsey 


Other  Tales 


was  comin'  to  take  him  away.  Dat's  one 
whole  poun'  of  Missis  Queen  money  los'  from 
me  by  dat  rainy  wedder  las'  night;  an'  w'at 
I  goin'  to  do?" 

"W'at 's  de  matter  wid  you,  Joseph? "  asked 
Mrs.  Andrews  coming  out  of  the  house  and 
seeing  her  husband  talking  to  the  tree. 

"Oman,  you  is  a  fool  if  you  earn  sec  dat 
me  bes'  hog  gone.  Dere  is  de  rope,  but 
w'ere  is  mehog?" 

"Lard!  Joe,  somebody  t'ief  him,"  returned 
Mrs.  Andrews  with  decision.  "I  bet  you 
it  is  dat  same  black  neager  Ramsey,  an'  by 
dis  time  de  hog  is  well  butcher  an'  cut  up. 
Oh !  dat  is  a  bad  man  an'  belongs  to  de  Debbil, 
sartin." 

"  So  you  t'ink  dat  it  is  Missa  Ramsey  t'ief 
him?  But  Carlo  no  would  have  bark  if  any- 
body come  into  de  yard  at  night  time?" 

"Carlo  know  Missa  Ramsey,  an'  if  him 
jus'  speak  to  de  dog  an'  give  him  one  ole  bone, 
w'ere  de  dog  would  fin'  mout'  to  bark  wid?" 

"  Dat 's  de  trut'  w'at  you  say,  but  anyhow 
[332] 


Mary  and  Martha 


everybody  mus'  turn  out  an'  look  for  dat  hog 
because  him  maybe  only  pop  him  rope  an' 
run  way  how  de  rain  come  down  'pon  hin 
las  mght.  Wake  up  dem  lazy  pick'ne>.ua' 
teu  dem  to  go  'long  go  sarch  for  de  pig.  ■ 

■Mrs.  Andrews  re-entered  the  house   a-d 
going  to  the  room  where  the  three  girls  s-'ept 
managed,  after  much  shaking  and  calling' 
to  awaken  her  daughters. 

"Come!  get  up. "  she  said  as  they  stretched 
themselves  and  rubbed  their  eyes,  "you  fader 
hog  gone  an'  him  say  you  mus'  get  up  an'  go 
sarch  for  him." 

.  "^."PP*  '°^'  ^^  pig?"  repeated  Mary 
jumpmg  up  and  getting  hold  of  her  clothes, 
while  Martha  turned  slowly  over,  mutter- 
mg: 

"Chow!  dat  hog  is  a  pure  boderation  an' 
I  wish  him  might  never  come  back  agen." 

You  want  you'  fader  to  lost  one  whole 

poun  because  you  is  too  lazy  to  feed  de  hog? 

Get  up  at  once  an'  don'  meek  I  get  vex'." 

Then  turmng  to  Queen  Amie.  the  youngest,  a 

1^33] 


Other  Tales 


child  of  six  years,  who  was  sobbing  audibly, 
she  asked  roughly,  "Wat  you  sit  down  in 
dat  corner  for  an'  bawlin'  like  say  jackass 
behin'  foot  ketch  you  'pon  you  jaw  corner? 
Wat 's  de  matter  wid  you?" 

"  Missa— Missa— igh !  igh !  Missa  Ramsey, 
igh!  did  promise  me  de  tail  Saturday,  an'  now 
I — igh!    I  wont  get  none!    Igh — eee-ee! 

"Piok'ney,  you  too  fool,"  returned  her 
mother  walking  away  in  disgust  from  her 
daughters. 

A  few  minutes  more  found  the  search  par,, , 
reaify  to  start,  with  bare  feet  and  dresses 
tied  high  and  dry  by  means  of  a  cord  around 
the  hips  which  caught  up  the  skirts  in  a  large 
fold  just  below  the  waist. 

"I  'se  comin'  wid  you,  Mary,"  said  little 
Queen. 

"I  'se  sure  I  doan  want  you  wid  me,"  re- 
turned Martha  tartly.  "I  will  teck  Carlo. 
Come,  Carlo!  come!" 

But  Carlo  sat  on  his  haunches  slowly  wag- 
ging his  tail  from  side  to  side  and  looking  at 


Martha  with  wide  open,  innocent  eyes  as 
though  he  was  too  simple  to  understand  what 
she  said. 

"Come,  Carlo,  come!"  she  repeated,  but 
the  dog  would  not  move,  so,  picking  up  a 
stick  she  threw  it  at  him  with  aU  her  might, 
muttering,  "Ole  fool!  All  him  know  'bout 
IS  how  to  eat, "  and  walked  off  alone. 

Carlo  dodged  the  stick  successfully;  he 
was  used  to  such  delicate  attentions  from 
Martha,  and  remained  at  a  safe  distance  until 
she  was  out  of  sight,  then  he  bounded  after 
the  other  two  girls,  who  hf.d  also  started  on 
their  mission. 

In  the  deHght  of  walking  through  all  the 
deepest  puddles  she  could  find  and  watching 
the  water  gush  up  between  her  little  naked 
black  toes.  Queen  Anne  forgot  her  disappoint- 
ment m  the  lost  pig's  tail  and  trotted  happily 
along,  chattering  all  the  while  like  a  little 
parrakeet. 

"Mary,  w'at  is  dem?    Isn't  dem  junjoe, 
an'  don't  dem  pisin?"  she  asked  as  they 
[235] 


Other  Tales 


passed  a  little  cluster  of  pearly  white  mush- 
rooms peeping  out  through  the  green  grass. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mary. 

"Well,  I  see  dat  bockra  [white]  lady  w'at 
live  at  Grove  Hill,  me  forget  him  name,  I  see 
her  pick  one  whole  tray  load  of  dem  t'ings 
one  day  an'  w'en  I  ax  her  w'at  dem  good  for, 
she  say  she  goin'  eat  dem." 

"Oh!  Bockra  know  how  to  obeah  de  pisin 
out  of  dem,  but  if  you  was  to  eat  one,  you 
would  dead  right  off." 

"Lard!"  exclaimed  Queen  in  a  frightened 
tone.  Then  after  a  few  minutes  of  quiet 
thinking,  she  asked,  "Sister,  is  dat  w'at 
obeahman  use  w'en  dem  want  to  kill  some- 
body?" 

"Shet  you'  mout',  pick'ney  an'  doan  call 
obeahman  name  dat  way.  You  doan  know 
dat  dem  can  hear  you  w'erever  dem  is  an' 
dem  would  soon  ketch  you  shadder  in  a  bottle 
an'  kill  you. '' 

"Lard!"  once  more  said  Queen,  whose  face 
had  changed  colour  while  her  sister  spoke. 
b36l 


After  this  the  two  girls  walked  on  in  sUence 
a  good  way.  Mary  swinging  the  rope  she  had 
brought  in  case  the  pig  should  be  found 
her  thoughts  far  away,  while  Queen  kept 
casting  furtive  glances  all  around  fearing 
every  minute  to  see  an  obeahman  appear  with 
a  bottle  in  his  hand.  Suddenly  Carlo  made 
a  dash  forward  into  a  clump  of  bushes  and 
mimediately  a  fierce  grunting  followed 

'Carlo  got  him!  Carlo  got  him!"  cried 
both  girls  at  once  as  they  ran  to  the  spot 
where  Carlo,  who  had  "got  him. "  was  holding 
on  to  the  pig  by  the  ear  while  the  unfortunate 
animal  was  doing  his  best  between  squeals 
and  struggles  to  get  away. 

In  a  jiffy  Mary  had  made  a  noose  with  the 
end  of  the  rope  and  got  it  round  one  of  the 
pig  s  hind  legs;  then  they  drove  off  Carlo  and 
putting  the  other  end  of  the  rope  around  the 
struggling  creature's  neck,  and  releasing  his 
leg.  they  started  for  home  a  triumphant  Uttle 
band,  all  but  poor  piggy,  who  followed  re- 
luctantly, getting  many  a  little  nip  behind 
[2371 


Other  Tales 


from  Carlo  just  to  keep  him  going,  and  show- 
ing his  indignation  by  standing  bristles  and 
fiercely  chopping  jaws. 

When  they  reached  home  it  was  to  find 
Martha  still  absent,  but  of  this  no  one 
took  much  heed,  knowing  full  well  that 
she  was  calculated  to  take  good  care  of 
herself. 

When  twin  daughters  were  bom  to  Mrs. 
Andrews,  she  named  them  in  accordance  with 
local  superstition,  Mary  and  Martha,  but 
nature  declining  to  aid  superstition,  reversed 
the  accepted  order  of  things  and  contrary 
to  expectation,  gave  to  Mary,  a  sweet  face 
and  lovable  character  while  to  Martha's 
share  fell  the  husks,  both  physical  and  men- 
tal, and  an  uglier  negro  girl  than  this  latter, 
it  would  have  been  difficult  to  find.  Her 
temper  matching  her  face,  she  was  of  course 
jealous  of  her  more  favoured  sister  and  hated 
Mary  with  a  bitter  hatred. 

This  morning  she  was  in  one  of  her  darkest 
moods  and  went  on  her  way  grumbling  at 
U38I 


Mary  and  Martha 


Mary,  Queen  Anne,  and  the  pig,  first  cause 
of  all  the  disturbance. 
_    "Hi!  me  darter,  w'ere  is  you  goin'  so  soon 
in  de  marnin-  an'  w'y  meek  you  can't  stop 
an  say  howdie  to  de  Die  man?" 

Thus  accosted,  Martha  raised  her  head 
with  a  start  to  see  Gran'pa  Baldie  sitting  at 
the  door  of  his  hut,  enjoying  his  coffee  and 
the  fresh  morning  air  at  the  same  time 

"Marnin-,  Gran'pa,"  said  she  crossing  her 
hands  at  her  waist  and  dropping  a  rapid 
curtsey.  "I 'se  dat  busy  lookin' for  me  pa 
wort  less  hog  dat  I  never  know  I  was  passin' 
yew  house  till  you  call  me.  De  smell  of  you' 
coffee  is  very  good  an'  sweet,  sah;  is  you  got 
any  to  spare  a  poor  gal  dis  cole  marnin'?" 

'Well,  me  chile,  if  you  will  step  up  an 
look  in  dat  pan  on  de  fire,  mebbe  you  will  fin' 
some,  an'  de  goat  is  jus'  onder  de  house,  so 
you  can  go  milk  w'at  you  want  an'  welcome. " 
Tank  you,  Gran'pa,"  Martha  replied  as 
she  took  the  pan  from  off  the  open  air  hearth 
composed  of  three  bricks  set  close  together 
b39i 


other  Tales 


with  a  small  fire  of  brambles  burning  between 

them.    Then  pouring  the  coffee  into  a  jam 

tin  which  had  done  duty  as  the  old  man's  milk 

jug,  she  crept  under  the  house  where  the  goat 

stood  with  a  couple  of  kids  beside  her,  and 

obtaining  the  desired  addition  to  her  cofEee, 

returned  to,  old  Baldie  and  sat  down  by  him. 

As  she  slowly  sipped  the  steaming  fluid, 

her  grievances  which  had  been  for  the  while 

forgotten  returned  in  full  force,  and  with  them 

came  the  remembrance  of  something  she  had 

heard  about  this  old  man. 

"Give  me  you'  mug,  Gran'pa,  an'  I  will  go 
wash  it  for  you,"  Martha  said,  taking  hold  of 
his  empty  cup  and  walking  into  the  house  be- 
fore he  had  time  to  reply.  He  rose  as  quickly 
as  his  crippled  limbs  would  permit,  and  hob- 
bled after  her.  Inside  the  house  he  seated 
himself  on  an  empty  salt  fish  box  and  taking 
a  very  black  clay  pipe  from  his  pocket,  said: 
"Me  chile,  jus'  go  bring  me  one  fire  coal 
from  de  fire  to  light  me  pipe." 

As   Martha  went  through  the  door,  the 
(240] 


Mary  and  Marths 


old  man  rose  hastily,  crossed  the  hut,  and 
taking  a  small  bottle  off  the  top  of  a  cupboard 
put  It  m  his  pocket  and  regained  his  seat  just 
as  Martha  apparently  absorbed  in  the  carrying 
of  a  hve  coal,  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Ah!  t'ank  you,  me  dear.  I  wish  I  did 
have  a  darter  like  you  to  teck  care  of  me  in 
me  ole  age. " 

Martha  shrugged  her  shoulders  doubtfully 
and  said: 

"To  tell  you  de  truth,  Gran'pa.  I  is  glad  I 
js  n  t  you  darter  because  I  hear  dem  say  you 
IS  obeahmaa,  an'  I  'fraid  for  obeahman." 

Me  obeahman,  me?    De  one  dat  tell  you 
so  IS  a  hard  an'  I  wish  dat  Nebuchadnay^er  de 
pnnce  of  de  debbils  may  ketch  him  an'  trow 
bmmna  de  bottomless  pit  wid  brimstone 
anbxhnlead     Who  teU  you  such  a  t'ing  as 
dat?    It  mus    be  dat  Hard  an'  fief  Mash- 
mout    Samuel  dat  want  to  teck  away  me 
decent  character  for  him  come  de  odder  day 
an  lay  claim  'pon  me  goat  an' say  it  belongs 
tobm.    [Baa!  said  the  goat  of  Mash-mout' 
b4i] 


Other  Tales 


Samuel  from  under  the  house.]  De  Hard,  w'en 
him  know  well  dat  de  "•-  't  is  de  one  me  cousin 
Sarah  sen'  from  Neg.ji  come  give  me!  May 
de  Lard  strike  mo  d-^  id  if  dat  is  not  de  truth 
w'at  I  say,  I  know  not'ing  'bout  obeahman 
an'  I  doan  like  hear  obeahman  name  call  in  dis 
house." 

Baldie  leant  his  back  against  the  wattled 
side  of  his  hut  and  puffed  fiercely  at  his  pipe 
while  Martha  quietly  finished  drying  the  mug 
and  cans. 

When  she  had  finished  she  said: 

"  Dem  is  all  clean  now  an'  I  jus'  goin'  put 
dem  in  dat  cupboard." 

"No!  no!  leave  dem  dere,"  shouted  Baldie 
jumping  up  to  stop  Martha,  but  she  was  too 
quick  for  him  and  had  opened  the  cupboard 
door  before  he  caught  her  hand. 

The  sight  of  a  human  skull,  some  bones  of 
animals,  and  other  debris  commonly  used  in 
the  trade  of  obeah,  made  the  girl  scream,  and 
throwing  down  the  things  she  held  she  fled  to 
the  other  side  of  the  hut. 

12^2] 


Gal,  doan  be  a  fool.    Wat  you  'fraid  for?  - 
^  Gran-pa,  I  tell  you  dat  you  is  obeahman 
an  you  say  you  is  n't;  den  w'at  you  want  wid 
dem  t  ings  in  you  cupboard?"  repUed  Martha 
her  voice  trembling  with  fear. 

"  Well,  me  darter,  if  I  do  work  a  Kttle  obeah 
now  an-  den,  dat  is  no  reason  w'y  you  should 
callmeobeahman.  Dat  is  a  ugly  name,  an' 
If  constab  hear  it  dem  would  teck  me  to  de 
courthouse;  now  I  is  a  peaceable  man, 
an  walk  m  de  ways  of  de  Lard,  an'  I  hope 
you  won't  meek  nobody  know  w'at  you  see 
today. " 

"W'at  is  dat  you  got  in  de  vial  in  you 
pocket,  sah?" 

"Viall  got  in  me  pocket?  WeU!  I  never 
see  .uch  a  gal  from  I  bom.  How  you  know 
aat  r  got  vial  in  me  pocket,  eh?" 

"Hi!  Gran'pa  I  did  see  you  put  de  bottle 
m  you  pocket  w'en  me  comin'  wid  de  fire- 
coal." 

"Gal,  you'  eye  too  sharp.  Dat  bottle  have 
somet  ing  to  kill  mongoose  an'  rat  an'  I  buy 

[2431 


Other  Tales 


it  in  de  Bay  las'  Saturday  because  de  varmint 
is  eatin'  up  all  me  fowl." 

"Lard!  sah,  I  beg  you  give  me  little  to  set 
in  we  cane  piece,  for  ratta  is  cuttin'  all  we 
cane."  Seeing  hesitation  in  the  old  man's 
expression,  Martha  added  craftily,  "  If  you 
give  me  some,  Gran'pa,  I  wont  tell  nobody  dat 
you  is  obeahman. " 

The  little  ferrety  eyes  of  the  girl  closed 
menacingly  as  she  spoke  and  Baldie  realised 
that  to  yield  to  her  request  was  the  only  way 
to  stop  her  tongue,  so  pouring  half  the  con- 
tent i;  of  the  bottle  he  had  thought  to  conceal 
into  an  empty  one  from  the  cupboard,  he 
gave  it  to  Martha  saying: 

"Now,  me  darter,  if  you  is  in  a  hurry 
to  kill  dem  rat,  one  teaspoonful;  if  you 
want  to  punish  den)  for  de  damage  to 
you'  cane,  two  drops  every  day,  an'  dem 
will  cut  less  an'  less  cane  every  day  till 
dem  dead." 

"T'ankyou,  sah,"  said  Martha  with  a  look 
01'  comprehension  and  dropping  a  curtsey, 
[-'441 


Mary  and  Martha 


then  she  took  the  bottle  and  her  leave  of 
Gran'pa  Baldie. 

"Good-bye,  me  chile,  may  de  blsssin'  of 
Moses  an'  of  Pharaoh  res'  'pon  you.  an'  re- 
member w'at  I  say.  one  teaspoonful  to  do 
de  busmess  quick,  two  drop  every  day  for 
pumshment.  An'  noder  t'ing  doan  forget, 
dat^everyfing  you   see   not   good   to   talk 

When  Martha  arrived  home,  she  was  not 
overjoyed  to  see  her  charge  once  more  tied 
to  the  akee  tree  and  she  could  not  resist 
gmn^  a  vicious  kick  to  poor  piggy  as  she 

"Were  you  been  all  dis  time,  Mart'a?" 
demanded  Mrs.  Andrews. 

"Oh!  I  walk,  walk  all  over  de  place  sarchin' 

for  dat  hog  an'  all  de  time  him  did  well  tie 

pon  de  tree  agen.     Doan  bodder  me,  but  give 

me  me  breakfas'  for  I  mos'  dead  wid  hungry  " 

Catching  sight  of  Queen  Amie  who  stood 

at  the  kitchen  door  scratching  one  leg  with 

the  bare  toes  of  the  other  foot  and  gloating 

1*45) 


MICROCOPY    KESOIUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A  /1PPLIED  IIVA^GE    Ir 

^^.  1653  East  Moin   Street 

=«  Rochester.   Ne»    York         U609       USA 

".^  (716)   4B2  -  0300  -  Phone 

^S  (716)   288  -  5989  -  Fa« 


Other  Tales 


over  her  recovered  chances  of  the  pig's  tail, 
Martha  exclaimed 

"Good  fader!  look  'pon  Queen!  De 
pick'ney  stan'  'pon  one  foot  an*  starin'  at 
de  pig  wid  water  ninnin'  out  of  him  mout' 
like  hungry  dawg  watch  bone.  I  jus'  hope 
Missa  Ramsey  doan  give  you  de  tail  after 
all  de  way  you  so  greedy  after  it." 

"Go  'long,  go  get  you  breakfas',  you  too 
shurance, "  replied  the  little  sister  with  a  toss 
of  her  head. 

"  Shurance,  eh?  I  will  teach  you  to  call  you' 
betters  shurance,  you  little  black  neager  you ! " 
Martha  made  a  dive  at  Queen  Anne  who 
slipped  off  like  an  eel  and  in  a  moment  was 
gone  round  the  house  where  she  stood  grin- 
ning and  putting  out  her  tongue  at  her  sister. 
An  unripe  akee  whizzed  past  her  head,  with 
which  parting  shot  Martha  turned  into  the 
kitchen  and  got  her  breakfast  herself. 

Next  day,  Mrs.  Andrews  and  Mary  went 
to  the  Bay,  as  the  little  sea-port  town  was 
called,  to  do  their  marketing  leaving  Martha 
I246I 


Mary  and  Martha 


«  charge.  When  twilight  began  to  fall,  and 
about  the  time  they  might  reasonably  be 
expected  home.  Andrews  told  Queen  that  he 
hadsoldapenny-halfpemiy  worth  of  akees 
to  Mrs  Frummageand  she  must  have  them 
picked  before  Seraphina  Frummage  came 
tor  them. 

"All  right,  Puppa.  •■  said  Queen  and  was  at 
the  top  of  the  tree  in  a  minute.  Akee  after 
akee  fell,  then  there  came  a  lull.  The  tree 
stood  at  some  distance  from  the  house  but 
close  to  the  kitchen  the  roof  of  which  was  half 
gone,  and  into  the  aperture  Queen  Anne  was 
gazmg  as  she  lav  Bat  r>t,  »  •  • 
branch.  ^    Projectmg 

"Queen,  is  dem  akee  pick  yet?" 
"Yes,  Puppa,  I  jus'  finish,"  she  repUed 
conung  quickly  down  the  tree  at  the  root  of 
which  Seraphina  waited  with  her  basket. 
The  two  children  stopped  to  have  a  chat  be- 
fore picking  up  the  fruit  but  were  interrupted 
by  Martha  who.  coming  to  the  kitchen  door, 
called  to  her  sister  to  stop  chatting  and  come 

[247] 


Other  Tales 


and  mind  the  pot  of  soup  while  she  went  to  the 
pepper  bush  for  another  green  pepper. 

"Dat  Martha,  I  hate  him!"  said  the  little 
girl  to  Seraphina  as  she  turned  reluctantly 
to  the  kitchen. 

Soon  after  this  Jane  and  her  daughter 
arrived  and  while  they  were  busy  relating 
all  the-  had  seen  and  heard  at  the  Bay,  Mar- 
tha was  pouring  the  pepper-pot  into  a  row 
of  basins  that  stood  on  the  kitchen  table 
each  of  which  belonged  exclusively  to  some 
member  of  the  family  and  was  never  used  by 
any  other. 

Dinner  over,  they  retired  to  the  house  and 
when  the  mother  had  lighted  a  small  lamp 
which  stood  on  the  table,  the  women  folk 
brought  out  various  pieces  of  plain  sawing, 
while  Joseph,  the  male  and  therefore  privi- 
leged member,  filled  his  pipe  with  native 
tobacco  and  puffed  contentedly  away. 

A  scream  from  Martha  broke  the  silence 
of  the  workers  and  the  others  looking  up  with 
startled  inquiry,  saw  her  throw  up  her  hands 
I248] 


and  fall  backwards  off  the  box  on  which  she 
had  been  sitting. 

"  Oh !  Lard,  Lard,  Lard,  I  dead !  help !  help ! " 
she  screamed,  rocking  from  side  to  side. 

"  Me  poor  pick'ney  is  on  dyin',  Joseph,  look 
•pon  him!  Wat  we  goin'  to  do?"  implored 
the  mother,  terrified  ahnost  out  of  her  senses. 

"Go  bring  Gran'pa  Baldie,  meek  has'," 
gasped  Martha  between  her  groans. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Joseph,  him  can  work  cure !  Go 
get  de  jackass  an'  go  for  him  quick  as  you 
can. " 

Joseph  rushed  out  of  the  house  and  drag- 
ging the  unwilling  donkey  out  of  the  en- 
closure in  which  he  usually  spent  the  night, 
hastily  threw  an  old  corn  sack  across  his 
back,  a  rope  around  his  head,  and  digging  his 
heels  into  the  poor  animal's  sides,  started  at 
full  gallop  for  the  obeahman. 

Meanwhile  her  mother  and  Mary  were  do- 
ing their  best  to  give  the  sufferer  ease  and 
Queen  Anne,  huddled  up  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  watched  them  in  speechless  terror. 
[249] 


Other  Tales 


Almost  before  tney  expected  him  Joseph 
came  back  trotting  beside  the  donkey  with 
Gran'pa  Baldie  seated  on  its  back,  his  feet 
almost  touching  the  ground.  Helping  the 
old  man  to  alight,  Andrews  took  him  to  the 
room  wherein  lay  the  sick  girl. 

"Ah!  me  darter,  you  is  mos'  dead  I  see," 
said  the  magician  rubbing  his  hands  in  evi- 
dent satisfaction. 

"Yes,  Gran'pa,  save  me!  save  me!"  she 
implored. 

"Yes,  I  will  save  you,  but  everybody  mus' 
go  out  of  de  room  an'  lef  only  me  an'  you, 
else  de  charm  won't  work." 

The  fanuly  silently  filed  out  before  the 
command  of  superior  knowledge  and  the 
wizard  turning  to  his  patient,  said: 

"Mart'a,  you  been  try  in'  to  work  obeah 
wid  dat  rat  p'isin  I  give  you  an'  de  obeah  turn 
'pon  you'self .  Teck  dis  an'  drink  it  at  once 
or  you  never  live  to  see  to-morra. " 

He  handed  her  a  small  calabash  cup  the 
contents  of  which  the  patient  drank  eagerly, 
[250I 


Mary  and  Martha 


while  the  obeah  doctor  made  mysterious 
passes  over  her  with  .is  hands  at  the  same 
time  muttering  a  deep  voiced  incantation. 

It  did  not  take  long  for  the  powerful  anti- 
dote he  had  given  her  to  do  its  work,  and  when 
she  was  somewhat  recovered,  he  said: 

"You  mus-  give  me  back  dat  rat  p'isin  or 
obeah  will  ketch  you  again,  an'  de  secon'  time 
It  ketch  you,  you  mus'  dead,  nofing  can  save 
you  life. " 

"If  you  look  in  dat  crab  hole  jus'  inside 
de  kitchen  close  to  de  post,  you  will  fin'  de 
bottle,  Gran'pa,  but  I  never  will  try  to  use 
obeah  again  for  is  only  dem  w'at  understan' 
It  can  handle  it  right,"  replied  the  girl  in  a 
weak  voice. 

After  Baldie  had  assured  the  anxious  pa- 
rents of  their  daughter's  safety  and  taken  his 
leave  and  Andrews  got  home  with  the  don- 
key ndden  by  the  magician,  Mary  went  out 
to  give  the  animal  water  and  Queen  Anne 
followed  her. 

"Mary,"  she  said,  "I  see  Mart'a  drop 
Usi] 


Other  Tales 


Eomet'ing  out  of  a  bottle  into  you'  basin  dis 
evenin'  w'en  I  was  'pon  de  akee  tree,  den  I 
see  her  hide  de  bottle  in  de  crab  hole  in  dc 
kitchen,  an'  w'en  she  would  n't  meek  me  talk 
1.0  Seraphina  but  sen'  me  away  to  min'  de 
soup,  I  go  get  de  bottle  an'  pour  some  into  for 
her  basin,  den  I  wash  for  you  basin  an'  jus'  lef ' 
few  drop  of  water  in  de  bottom,  an'  how  de 
somet'ing  she  did  put  in  white  like  water,  she 
never  know  de  difference.  I  t'ink  dat  is  w'at 
Kieck  her  sick." 

Mary  made  no  answer  for  she    believed 
Queen  Anne  was  right. 


[252J 


Forbidden  Fruit 

pRAU  von  Helmsdorf  sat  at  the  door  of 
the    Moravian    mission    house    busily 
turning  the  heel  of  a  white  cotton  sock  des- 
tined for  the  honest  German  foot  of  her 
'Mann"  the  missionary.    Together  he  and 
she  had  come  out  fifteen  years  earlier  to  this 
unknown  tropical  land  wherein  they  had  since 
laboured  unceasingly  for  humanity  and  the 
Gospel;  but  going  to  and  fro  upon  his  Mas- 
ter's business  was  no  longer  easy  to  von 
Helmsdorf.    He    was    growing    stout    and 
unwieldly. 

In  earlier  years  his  dutiful  Frau  had  con- 
sidered it  a  special  dispensation  of  Providence 
in  their  favour  that  the  Island  provided  her 
larder  with  so  many  delicacies,  and  even  now 
she  refused  to  entertain  his  occasional  fear, 
which  came  only  with  ir.  ligestion,  that  thj 
[2531 


Other  Tales 


Enemy  had  somewhat  ens  .ared  him  through 
l,is  liking  for  the  things  of  the  table.  When 
quite  well,  the  good  missionary  rose  superior 
to  the  fancy  and  went  on  getting  fatter  and 
fatter. 

Now,  seeing  him  come  towards  the  house 
with  frowning  brows  and  hurried,  angry 
footsteps,  his  wife  rose  an'1  went  to  meet  him 
with  some  anxiety. 

"Mein  Fritz,  what  is  the  matter?"  she 
isked  in  their  mother  tongue,  laying  her  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"  Matter,"  he  replied  fiercely,  "the  matter 
is  that  the  thieves  have  been  at  my  bread- 
fruit again  and  there  is  not  oiij  left  on  it  that 
is  fit  to  pick. " 

"Isthrvtall?" 

"All!  and  is  that  not  enough?  Ach!  mein 
Frau,  you  like  not  the  fruit  yourself." 

"You  look  so  very  angry,  Fritz,  I  thought 
it  must  be  some  new  trouble,  but  this  thing 
has  happened  so  often  now,  you  ought  to 
mind  it  no  more." 

[>S4l 


Forbidden  Fruit 

"As  I  said  before,  you  like  not  tho  fruit 
yourself,  Frau, "  he  returned  irritably,  then 
his  face  changed  quickly  to  pleased  anticipa- 
tion as  a  curtseying  black  girl  came  to  the 
door  and  announced  dinner  ready. 

The  short  tropical  twilight  was  changing 
quickly  to  dusk  as  they  entered  the  house,  the 
girl  vanishing  noiselessly  before  them,  her 
bare  feet  making  no  sound  on  the  polished 
floor. 

Th'-  meal  was  taken  ir  Hence  except  for  the 
good  man's  gobbling,  ana  when  they  had  left 
the  dinner  table  for  the  cooler  verandah  with 
Its  comfortable  old  fashioned  rocking  chairs, 
Herr  von  Helmsdorf  puffed  away  at  his  pipe 
as  if  lost  in  meditation,  so  that  his  wife  gave 
up  conversational  attempts  and  went  quietly 
to  sleep. 

As  the  missionary  sat  buried  in  thought, 
the  fireflies  might  flit  in  and  out  between  the 
leaves  of  the  india-rubber  tree,  th-  Southern 
Cross,  his  favourite  among  the  starry  host, 
m'ght  shine  with  more  than  usual  brilliancy, 
(255) 


Other  Tales 


and  the  thousand  voices  of  the  tropical  night 
call  to  him  ever  so  tenderly,  all  in  vain: 
he  was  too  much  engrossed  in  unwonted 
thoughts  of  revenge  upon  the  robber  of  his 
bread-fruit  tree. 

Moodily  he  sat  puffing  away  until  long 
after  his  usual  bed  hour  until  his  wife  awoke 
in  her  chair  and  induced  him  to  retire  for 
the  night. 

Meanwhile  "Minister's"  mood  was  a  sub- 
ject of  comment  in  the  kitchen.  Jemima,  the 
maid  who  had  summoned  them  to  dinner, 
declared  that  "somet'ing  mus'  be  do  Minister 
an'  vex  him  for  true,  because  him  never 
remember  to  ask  for  fry  plantain  t'ree 
time." 

"You  doan  know  w'at  do  him,  den?"  asked 
Ahab,  the  pennkeeper,  indifferently. 

"No.  De  Missis  go  to  meet  him  on  do 
gravel  walk  an'  him  mus'  be  tell  her,  but  as 
dem  talkin'  deni  own  gibberish,  I  could  n' 
meek  out  w'at  dem  sayin',  I  only  ketch  one 
word,  bread-fruit. " 

[2561 


Forbidden   Fruit 


"Did  him  carry  anj  in  him  hanV"  asked 
oarah  the  cook  quickly 
"No." 

"Ahey!   den  I  know  w'at   do   Minister. 
Dem  tiefin-  him  bread-fruit  agai-    because 
dis  afternoon  w'en  him  going  out  him  see  me 
at  de  door  an'  him  holler  sav.  'Cook,  I  goin' 
bnng  you  one  splended  one  for  breakfas'  to- 
niarra  an'  if  you  spoil  it,  I  will  stop  two  week 
wages  from   you.'     Him   only   say  dat  be- 
cause  h,m  know  well  I  never  spoil  a  single 
bread-  rmt  since  I  come  her«  ten  year  gone 
las  July.    I  know  de  way  him  love  dem  an' 
always  teck  care  dat  dem  roas'  good,  good 
Is  a  sm  for  anybody  to  fief  from  Minister 
because    him  good  to  everybody   an'   docs 
spen  him  time  prayin'  to  Massa  up  a'  top  to 
save  we  poor  sinful  soul  from  de  Debbil  " 
Sarah  seated  herself  on  a  small  bench  close 
to  the  kitchen  door  with  satisfaction  at  having 
cleared  up  the  mystery,  and  Ahab  rose  to  get 
a  coal  from  the  fire  for  his  pipe.     Taking  two 
or  three  puffs,  he  said: 
US7l 


Other  Tales 


"Well,  Minister  ought  to  do  little  pray  in' 
for  himself  too,  because  him  love  victuals  too 
much,  an'  dat  is  a  sin  as  well  as  t'iefin'." 

The  two  women  looked  knowingly  at  each 
other  and  as  the  pennkeeper  turned  to  leave 
the  kitchen,  Sarah  called  after  him,  "Any- 
how, w'en  de  Debbil  sarvin'  out  de  boilin* 
lead,  him  won't  pass  de  one  dat  teckin'  dem 
same  bread-fruit."  Then  she  left  her  seat 
and  going  over  to  Jemima,  put  her  hand  im- 
pressively on  the  younger  woman's  shoulder, 
saying  solemnly,  "Jemima,  believe  me,  is  not 
a  soul  else  but  Ahab  doin'  it." 

At  midnight  when  everything  grows  quiet 
in  the  tropics  and  "the  weary  world  lies 
sleeping,"  Frau  von  Helmsdorf's  dreams 
were  rudely  broken  by  the  sound  of  laughter 
so  wild  and  unnatural  that  she  trembled  with 
fright  for  some  seconds  until  she  saw  the  cause 
of  her  alarm  in  her  husband  who  was  sitting 
up  in  bed,  pointing  wildly  with  his  finger  into 
the  surrounding  darkness,  and  laughing  with 
fierce  joy. 

[258] 


"Fritz! 
crazy?" 

Her  voice  seemed  to  break  the  spell,  for  his 
outstretched  hand  dropped  and  hesankwearily 
back  to  his  pillow,  then  asked  in  a  sleepy  tone : 
what  IS  It,  Frau?" 
''Ach!  Fritz,  mein  Mann.  I  thought  you 
had  gone  crazy.  What  made  you  do  it,  Fritz 
are  you  ill?" 

No.  no,  Frau,  I  am  not  ill,  but  I  had  a 
vision.  In  my  dreams  I  saw  the  robber  of 
my  bread-fruit  tree  taken  in  a  trap  at  the  rtH,t 
of  It  I  laughed  to  see  the  sinner  thus  caught 
in  his  sin."  ^ 

"Fritz,  forget  not  who  says,  'vengeance  is 
mine    and  always,  so  far.  you  have  set  these 
poor  blacks  the  example  of  charity  to  all  men 
Vex   thyself   not   with   anger    but   pray  for 
thme  enemy  that  he  be  turned  from  his  evil 
doings. 

"I  do  that  also,  Emma,  but  a  little  judi- 
cms  punishment  hero  might  save  him  from 
the  wrath  to  come." 

[259I 


Other  Tales 


Frau  von  Helmsdorf  at  first  only  shook 
her  head  in  reply.  She  was  not  strong  in 
argument  but  seldom  changed  her  mind. 
After  a  full  minute  of  silence  she  remarked: 

"Take  care,  mdn  Mann,  lest  you  punish 
yourself  worse  than  him,  if  you  would 
persist. " 

At  breakfast  next  morning,  the  missionary 
announced  his  i  itention  of  going  to  the  Bay, 
or  nearest  sea-port  town,  about  fourteen 
miles  away,  to  make  some  necessary  pur- 
chases, and  contrary  to  his  usual  custom  did 
not  ask  his  wife  to  accompany  him.  That 
evening  he  returned  laden  with  an  assort- 
ment of  merchandise,  and  Ahab  came  for- 
ward to  take  Karl  and  the  gig  round  to  the 
stables,  his  master  cautioning  him  to  look 
well  to  the  horse's  feet  as  one  of  them  seemed 
lame. 

"  It  is  a  great  bother,  Ahab,  for  I  must  go 
to  the  Bay  again  on  Monday." 

Ahab  stooped  to  examine  the  hurt. 

"Karl  never  can  go  dat  journey  on  Monday, 
[260I 


sah.    Him  foot  cut  bad,"  he  said  when  he 
had  seen  the  nature  of  the  wound 

Von  Hetasdorf  frowned  and  stamped  his 
foot  impatiently. 

Bav'^n^'"!,'  ""'''•  '  ""'''^  '«"^'  «°  *°  the 

that  r  ^  ^^  ^^=  ''""°*  ^°"  fi'^  '''"  "P  - 
that  he  can  take  the  journey  slowly?" 

Cant  do  it,  Minister.  De  cut  deep  an' 
>f  you  drive  dat  horse  before  two  week  Wm 
wmiameforderes-ofhimhfe.    ButifM^ 

s^er  want  to  go  to  de  Bay  bad  fashion,  me 
^^^n  Wow  one  horse,  or  failin- horse  itself! 

yoltike?'*'^"'  —  ^--onthif 

thJlISarmir^"'''^"''^'^^''^^^-- 
Sunday  morning  Ahab  went  on  his  borrow- 

aUt^rrroa/"^------ 

[261J 


Other  Tales 


"Marnin,"  Cousin,  but  how  come  it  dat 
you  get  'way  so  soon  Jis  Sabbat'?"  returned 
the  blacksmith. 

Ahab  explained  the  situation  voluminously 
and  concluded  with,  "So  I  come  dis  marnin* 
to  ask  you  if  you  can  len'  me  you'  wall-eye 
mare  for  de  trip?  Minister  will  pay  you 
dollar  for  it." 

"  Me  good  Cousin  Ahab,  if  him  orfer  me 
poun'  de  mare  doan  able;  she  lie  down  onder 
de  cotton  tree  now  wid  Johncrow  up  at  de 
tree  top  keepin'  watch  for  her  las'  breat'." 
"De  poor  brute!  Well,  I  mus'  go  an' 
see  if  any  of  dem  todder  one  got  a  beas'  to 
len'." 

"I  say,  Ahab,  w'at  Minister  goin'  to  do 
wid  de  iron  somet'ing  him  gettin'  meek  at  de 
Bay?  Him  give  me  wife  broder  order  for  one 
kind  of  trap,  an'  have  it  ready  for  Monday, 
so  mus'  be  dat  teckin'  him  to  de  Bay  so  soon 
again." 

"Iron  trap?  Me  doan  hear  not'ing  'bout 
dat.    Minister  got   'nough  trap  already  to 

[262] 


mongcwse    dat    ever 


ketch  all  de  rat   an' 
walk." 

"Well,  from  w'at  me  wife  broder  say,  dis 
too  big  for  mongoose  or  rat.    Wen  him  did 
ask  Minister  w'at  de  use  of  it.  Minister  say 
to  ketch  a  kin-  of  rat  got  only  two  foot,  an' 
me  nebber  hear  of  two  foot  rat  before." 

A  light  broke  in  on  Ahab's  mind.    He  was 
silent  for  awhile  then  said: 

"Neider  me,  me  frien',  but  anyhow  I  mus' 
go,  so  day-day. " 

"Day-day,"  returned   Benny,  and   Ahab 
continued  his  quest. 

Prom  Joe  Miller  he  got  the  loan  of  a  mule 
and  on  Monday  the  minister  went  again  to 
the  Bay. 

That  evening  von  Helmsdorf  set  his  trap  at 
^he  root  of  his  bread-fruit  tree  and  for  many 
days  waited  expectantly,  but  the  thief  came 
no  more  and  at  last  the  good  missionary  him- 
self forgot  all  about  the  trap. 

It  happened  that  one  day  as  he  was  riding 
on  the  road  near  the  tree,  he  looked  up  and 
[263] 


other  Tales 


saw,  half  hidden  by  leaves,  a  beautiful  bread- 
fruit and  the  good  man's  mouth  watered  at 

the  sight. 

Dismounting,  he  threw  the  reins  on  Karl's 
neck  and  taking  oflE  Ws  coat,  prepared  to 
climb  if  his  bulk  would  permit.  Now  the 
grass  had  grown  over  the  trap  and  von  Helms- 
dorf  thought  cf  nothing  else  but  the  hand- 
some green  fruit  hanging  high  above  his  head. 
Without  warning,  the  trap  snapped  its  iron 
jaws  and  von  Helmsdorf  was  a  prisoner. 

Consternation  overcame  him  for  awhile, 
then  stooping  he  cleared  away  the  grass  with 
his  hands  and  tried  in  vain  to  open  the  strong 
iron  spring,  but  his  instructions  had  been 
minute  and  careful  and  the  backsmith  had 
been  exact,  so  there  vas  nothing  for  him  but 
to  shout  for  help  and  thank  his  stars  that  he 
had  mercifully  ordered  the  trap  to  be  me.de 
without  sharp  teeth;  though  in  closing,  it 
sprung  a  peculiar  catch  which  made  the  open- 
ing almost  impossible  to  any  one  caught  in  the 

toothless  jaws. 

[264I 


Forbidden  Fruit 


Ahab,  hearing  the  cries,  ran  to  the  spot  and 
the  good  man,  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of 
speedy  deliverance,  cried  out  as  he  saw  the 
approaching  figure: 

"Oh!  my  friend,  my  frfend,  help  me  to 
escape  from  this  fiend.  Ahab,  Ahab,  in  the 
wickedness  of  my  heart  I  set  a  trap  for  a  thici 
and  am  fallen  into  the  midst  thereof  myself  i  " 
"My  Fader!  Minister,  w'at  do  you?  Is 
It  duppy  [ghost]  holin-  you  foot,  sah?"  said 
Ahab,  feigning  ignorance  of  his  master's 
trouble. 

"No!  no!  Ahab,  an  invention  of  the  Evil 
One  has  me  in  its  clutches.    I  saw  this  thing 
m  a  dream  and  mistook  it  for  inspiration  from 
above,  so  I  hardened  my  heart  and  thought 
CO  see  my  enemy  where  I  stand  to-day.    But 
the  veil  has  fallen  from  my  eyes  and  I  know 
now  the  enemy  I  must  seek  to  take  prisoner 
IS  myself.     I  love  too  much  the  things  of  the 
table  and  they  have  led  me  to  forsake  the  way 
of  mercy   to   sinners.     But    tear    open    the 
bands  of  iron  that  encompass  my  leg  for  I  am 
[265] 


Other  Talcs 


not  so  young  as  once  I  was  and  the  pain  is 
not  a  little." 

So  Ahab  took  a  large  stone  and  forced  it 
into  the  trap,  thereby  enabling  the  missionary 
to  withdraw  his  foot,  and  exclaimed  incau- 
tioxisly  as  he  examined  the  instrument  of 
torture: 

"Massey!  but  dis  strong  'nough  to  hold 
de  bull  of  Bashan;  I  glad  I  did  teck  care 
to  keep  away  from  dis  tree." 

"  K  ou  knew  it  was  there  then!  Aha!  Ahab, 
then  you  stole  my  bread-fruit. " 

Confounded  by  the  rapidity  of  the  in- 
ference and  the  tone  of  certainty,  Ahab  did 
not  even  attempt  denial  but  fell  on  his  knees. 

"Oh!  Massa  Parson,  I  'm  shame  of  myself. 
It  is  a  great  sin  to  t'ief  from  you  sm'  I  is  de 
chiefes'  among  sinner. " 

"  What  could  have  tempted  you,  Ahab,  to 
do  such  a  wicked  thing?" 

"  De  bread-fruit,  Massa,  de  green  tempta- 
tion, sah.    Lard,  I  love  de  bread-fruit  jus'  de 
same  as  you  does  you'seU,  sah." 
[2661 


The  minister  looked  down  at  him  in  a  dazed 
way  He  felt  accused  of  his  own  familiar 
sin;  then  a  benign  expression  came  over  his 
kind  face  and  he  said: 

"You  do,  Ahab?  I  can  understand  the 
case  then,  but  beware  of  stealing,  my  son. 
And  as  it  is  my  duty  to  remove  temptation 
from  the  weak,  just  climb  the  tree  and  fetch 
me  down  that  bread-fruit." 

..  °"*  ^^^  8°°<^  'nan  gave  that  specimen  of 
green  temptation"  to  a  neighbour  and  has 
never  been  known  to  eat  of  bread-fruit  since 
nor  mdulge  too  freely  in  fried  plantain.  He 
IS  much  thinner,  stronger,  and  more  active 
than  he  was  ten  years  ago  and  often  the  good 
Frau  thinks  that  his  vision  did  not  come  from 
below  after  all  for  the  trap  did  catch  the 
thief  undoubtedly. 


1267) 


Methuselah's  Courtship 


■H 


A  Tale  of  the  West  Indies 

I!  Grannie,  meek  me  help  you,  ehey?" 
"All  right,  buoy,  I  will  t'ank  you,  for 
the  jackass  more  dan  me.  Shove  him  behin' 
w'ile  I  haul  him  by  de  rope.  Gustos'  buggy 
comin'  an'  de  road  dat  naner  I  'fraid  de 
banana  dem  going  to  mash  up." 

At  that  the  olu  woman  ran  to  the  donkey's 
head,  and  made  as  rr  ich  haste  up  the  steep 
bank  as  her  withered  limbs  would  allow,  coax- 
ing the  stubborn  animal  with  a  sharp  smack- 
ing noise  from  her  lips,  while  Son-son  pushed 
valiantly  from  behind.  The  donkey,  yielding 
to  double  persuasion,  ran  up  the  bank,  and 
Son-son  deftly  snatched  from  the  topmost 
bunch  two  of  the  largest  and  ripest  bananas. 

When  the  passing  carriage  had  vanished 
round  a  bend  in  the  road,  the  old  woman  led 

[368] 


Methuselah's  Courtship 

her  beast  down  again  and  would  have  pro- 
ceeded  on  her  way,  but  Son-son.  touching 
nis  cap,  said  meekly: 

"Den.  Grannie,  you  not  goin'  to  give  me 
one  .o-so  banana  ror  me  trouble?  De  jackass 
did  w  eU  heavy,  you  know,  ma'm. " 

''Youpick'neynebber  want  to  do  notW 
widouten  pay, "  grumbled  grannie.    Then  she 
searched  among  her  banana,  for  the  smallest 
and  greenest  of  them,  and,  discovering  the 
theft,  turned  upon  the  boy  with  the  end  of 
the  rope  and  a  shower  of  abuse.     He  dartrd 
down  the  road  and  at  a  safe  distance  stood 
mocking  and  waving  the  fruit  at  the  irate 
old  woman,  who,  knowing  pursuit  would  be 
useless,  gave  to  the  donkey  the  blows  she  had 
meant  for  the  boy.  and  disappeared  with  her 
beast  round   the  corner  after   the  Gustos' 
buggy. 

Son-son  peeled  a  banana,  and  his  mouth 
was  just  opening  for  the  first  bite  when  a 
voice  from  behind  said: 

"Where  you  get  dem?" 
(269J 


Other  Tales 


The  boy  turned  his  head,  to  see  a  handsome 
black  girl  of  about  twenty  balancing  on  her 
hi  id  a  round  basket  cf  yams. 

\x  me  no  question  an'  I  won't  tell  you  no 
lie,"  he  replied  snubbingly,  and  continued 
on  his  way.    She  followed  him. 

"  I  just  ax  for  fun,  me  buoy,  for  I  well  know 
we  're  dem  come  from." 

"Were  den,  since  you  is  obeah  woman  an' 
know  w'at  nobody  tell  you?" 

"Outof  Grannie  Maria  creel.  Me  jus'  pasd 
her  on  de  road  an' she  strong  'pon  cussin'  you 
for  a  fieH" 

Son-son  threw  his  head  back. 

"Laugh,  me  buoy,  laugh!  You  nebber 
hear  dem  say,  'w'en  chicken  merry,  hawk 
is  net..-'?" 

"W'at  you  mean?"  he  asked  sharply,  and 
the  girl  answered : 

"Well!  I  know  dem  people  dat  got  de 

spirit  is  tip-top  'pon  de  tamarin'  switch,  for 

my  fader  did  have  it  one  time,  an'  I  see 

Missa  Methuselah  at  de  las'  revival  hump- a' 

IsTO] 


Methuselah'3  Courtship 

up  himself  like  puss  swaller  fish-bone,  an' 
Kroanin'.  an'  dem  say  is  the  spirit  him 
got. 

"Wilse  Methuselah  don't  for  me  fader 
w  at  me  care  how  much  'spirit'  him  got? 
Jtou   too  fool,   Becky!" 

''But  me  tell  you  say  Hm  goin'  be  you' 
fader-in-law-  an'  dat  wone  agen!  Me  see 
him.^  ^berymamin'  'ponhim  mule,  wid  him 
bum  pan  'pon  him  head,  an'  him  long  tail 
coat,  an'  him  would  n'  wear  dat  week  day  if 
■  didn'tcourtin'!  Dem  say  is  you' modor 
'  gone  see.  An'  min'  you.  Son-son.  big 
tan    nn    tree  grow  at  him  door  mouth'" 

Becky  watched  with  delight  the  cloud 
wh.ch  gathered  on  the  boy's  face,  and  she 
laughed  aloud  when  he  shook  his  fist  and 
said: 

"Lard!  If  I  ever  catch  him  courtin'  my 
moder  I  beat  him  till  him  mash  up  fin^'" 

Son-son  fairly  boiled  with  indignation,  and 
Becky,  feeling  that  her  mission  had  been  ac- 
complished, said  gaily: 

[17'] 


Other  Tales 


"Good-by,  me  buoy!  I  sorry  for  you  from 
me  heart!"  and  turned  up  a  narrow  pathway. 

He  deigned  no  answer,  but  walked  on, 
switching  viciously  at  the  wild  flowers  along 
his  path.  At  his  mother's  gate  Francella 
met  him,  her  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  and 
brimming  over  with  news.  A  mule  was 
hitched  to  a  tree  in  the  yard,  and  before  the 
little  girl  had  time  to  speak,  her  brother 
demanded  sternly: 

"Who  fot  dat  mule?" 

"Is  Missa  Methuselah  mule.  "'•'^  inside 
the  house  withma.  Dem  courtin ' ,  Son-son ! ' ' 
she  added  excitedly. 

"Courtin"!  Dat  ole  lightnin'  fool  some- 
t'ing  t'ink  say  ma  goin'  married  him?" 

' '  Yes !  she  jus'  finish  tell  him  so  now !  Look 
here,  Son-son,  you  ought  to  see  de  gran' 
flourishin'  bow  him  meek  to  ma  w'en  him 
come  in  fus'.  Den  him  say, '  Mistress  Rachel, 
I  come  to  meek  a  supposition  to  you,  ma'm.' 
Ma,  she  says,  'Wat  is  dat,  Mistah  Methu- 
selah?' jcs'  like  she  did  n't  know.     Den  him 

[272] 


Methuselah's  Courtship 


knock  him  hand  'pon  him  shirt  front,  bram> 
an   say,  'Mistress  Rachel,  dis  heart  is  onder-' 
neath  you  foot.    Will  you  teck  me  for  better 
an    for  worse,   ma'm?'    Ma.  she  begin  to 
laugh,  an    twis'  her  neck  like  chicken  got 
staggers,  den  Missa  Methuselah  meek  to  come 
up  to  her,  an-  him  dat  hurry  him  nebber  see 
Mana  till  him  mash  off  de  fing  five  toe. 
Ix>ok  here.  Son-son,  de  poor  puss  mos'  spit 
himself  to  death,  as  him  meek  for  de  door  'pon 
de  tree  foot  leffen  to  him.    I  dat  frighten  I 
has  to  run  out  an '  did  n't  see  de  endin '  of  it  " 
"Wha-   dem   doin'   now.?"   inquired   her 
brother,  whose  frown  had  relaxed  at  the  re- 
cital of  Maria's  woes. 

';i  dunno,  but  I  goin-  look  froo  de  watt- 
Im  ,  an'  see  if  I  can  see  anyt'ing." 
"I  comin'  wid  you!" 

The  two  little  imps  stole  round  to  the  back 
of  the  thatched  cottage,  where  they  knew 
that  a  hole  in  the  wall  of  interlaced  laths 
would    afford   opportunity  for  observation 
There  was  a  struggle  to  be  first  at  the  hole 
"  [273] 


Other  Tales 


and  of  course  Son-son  won.  He  took  off  the 
straw  brim  which  did  duty  as  a  hat  and  ap- 
plied one  eye  to  the  hole.  The  happy  pair 
were  sitting  on  a  bench  against  the  opposite 
wall,  Methuselah's  puny  shape  end  deformity 
making  strange  contrast  to  the  woman's 
ample  development.  Suddenly  he  kissed  her, 
and  she  returned  the  salute  with  a  robust 
fervour  which  made  Son-son  exclaim: 

"Lard!  Francella,  you  dear  dat?  Dat  is 
'nough  to  meek  the  cluckin'  lizard  in  de 
thatchin'  trimble!"  Hardly  had  the  words 
been  spoken  when  a  scream  from  within  made 
him  return  his  eye  hastily  to  the  hole.  His 
mother  stood  upon  the  bench,  horror-stricken, 
her  skirts  gathered  round  her,  and  her  gallant 
lover  armed  with  a  broom  was  peering  on 
the  ground  with  his  shortsighted  eyes  for  the 
disturber  of  his  bliss. 

"  Wat  me  did  tell  you?  "  the  boy  demanded 
excitedly  of  his  sister,  and  rushed  round  to 
the  door  shouting,  "Stop,  Missa  Methuselah! 
Stop,  sah!    I  will  kill  him  for  you!" 
[274I 


Prancella  followed,  as  she  always  did  when 

her  brother  led.  though  in  truth  she  Jw 
nothmg  of  what  had  happened.  On  the  floor 
lay  a  large  lizard,  which,  stupefied  by  its  fall 

Snatcbng  the  broo™  f^on,  Methuselah's 
hand.  Son-son  hfted  the  stick  high  in  the  air, 

andwasabouttodemolishtheintrudingreptil 
at  a  blow,  but  the  cat's  breakfast  had  been 
forgotten  that  morning,  and  she.  recognising 
a  chance  of  filling  the  void,  darted  softly  for 

ward  then  out  of  the  door  with  the  prize 
danghng  fr„„  j^er  mouth.  Quick  as  a  flash 
the  boy  was  after  her.  but  his  mother  stopped 
him.  saymg: 

"Look  here.  buoy,  lefdat  puss  alo      an' 
go  bnng  wood  to  cook  the  dinner.  " 
"I  did  jes'  teck  aim  for  the  middle  of  the 

hzard  backbone,  an- if  Maria  did  n' come 
would  have  J,  him  to  de  floor!  Puss  is 
de  t  :efin  es  t  mg  in  de  wori'!"  muttered  Son- 
on  St:  1  scowling  after  the  disappearing 
cat.  Then  he  went  off  to  do  his  mother's 
b75l 


Other  Tales 


bidding,  Francella  following  at  a  respectful 
distance. 

When  they  were  once  more  alone,  Rachel 
said  to  her  affianced  husband: 

"I  got  somet'ing  to  show  you,  but  you 
musn'  tell  nobody.    You  hear?  " 

He  promised,  and  she  stepped  outside  for 
a  moment,  returning  with  a  small  rustic 
ladder,  which  she  placed  firmly  against  the 
wattled  wall,  and  clambering  up  drew  from 
amid  the  thatch  of  the  roof  a  wooden  money 
box.    This  she  showed  to  Methuselah,  saying : 

"I  got  ten  pound  in  dis  box,  an'  I  goin' 
spen'  some  of  it  on  de  dress  for  de  weddin'." 

"Ten  poun'!"  he  exclaimed,  with  wide 
eyes  of  astonishment;  "you  is  a  rich  woman, 
Rachel." 

She  put  the  box  carefully  in  its  hiding-place, 
and  came  down  the  ladder. 

"Now,  Methuselah,  you  is  de  only  one 
know  'bout  dat  money,  so  you  keep  you 
mout'  shet,  or  it  might  be  t'iefin' from  me." 

"Nebber  you  fear,  Rachel,  my  love;  I  will 
[276I 


Methuselah's  Courtship 


let  my  comn.unication  be  yea,  yea,  nay,  nay. 
Trus'mefordat." 

"De  pick'ney  mus'  be  come  wid  de  wood 
by  this  time,  so  I  beg  you  put  back  de  ladder 
gamst  de  fowl  house,  an'  I  will  go  boil  little 
victuals  for  you. " 

-  s  the  Uttle  knock-kneed  man  got  outside 
the  door  with  his  burden,  Son-son,  who  had 
been  an  unseen  observer  of  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding, called  out  to  him: 

"Hi!  Missa  Methuselah,  w'at  you  been 
dom-  wid  ladder  in  de  house?  Me  did  fink 
dat  you'  foot  too  twis'  to  climb  dat." 

"Buoy, "  he  replied,  in  a  solemnly  reproach- 
ful voice,  "dere  is  no  bear  in  dis  Ian',  t'ank 
God!  But  dere  is  odder  wil'  t'ings  just  as 
bad,  an  if  you  ever  go  to  Sunday-school  you 
ought  to  know  w'at  happen  dem  dat  mock 
at  de  afflicted  of  de  Lord." 

Rachel,  coming  out  of  the  house,  heard  the 
last  words,  and  asked: 

"Wha'  him  saying,  Methuselah?" 
"Rachel,   I  am   sorry   to   say  your   son 
(277) 


Other  Tales 


standet'  in  great  need  of  chastisement.  He 
is  a  mocker,  ma'm." 

"Den  I  goin'  give  it  to  him,"  replied  the 
mother,  making  a  dive  at  Son-son,  who,  al- 
ways on  the  alert  for  such  emergencies,  made 
good  his  escape.  "Nebber  min',  me  buoy! 
Wen  you'  plothes  come  off  to-night  is  de 
time!  Shurance,  pick'ney,"  a  threat  which 
she  made  good  in  a  way  that  Son-son  did 
not  soon  for"et,  and  the  wales  on  his 
little  body  served  to  keep  strong  his  desire 
for  revenge  until  the  opportunity  came 
to  gratify  it.  This  happened  one  market 
day  when  Rachel  went  off  to  the  nearest 
town,  taking  Francella  with  her.  Son-son  be- 
ing left  to  take  care  of  the  house.  Then  the 
old,  time-worn  adage  concerning  idle  hands 
and  mischief  received  confirmation  once  again. 

With  nothing  to  do  until  time  to  cook  his 
mid-day  meal,  the  boy  lay  under  the  jack- 
fruit  tree,  and  fell  fast  asleep.  He  was  awak- 
ened by  the  noisy  cackling  of  a  hen  who  was 
slowly  hopping  down  the  ladder  of  the  fowl- 
I278] 


Methuselah's  Courtship 


house.    Up  he  jumped,  scaring  the  hen  until 
she  forgot  her  dignity  and  flew  screaming 
away  to  join  the  other  members  of  Rachel's 
feathered  floek,  while  he  ran  nimbly  up  the 
ladder,  and  as  nimbly  down  again  with  a  big 
brown  egg  in  his  hands.    At  the  foot  of  the 
ladder  a  sudden  thought  struck  him;  he  put 
his  finger  in  his  mouth,  and  hung  his  head  for 
a  moment,  then  nodded  as  if  his  decision 
pleased  him.    Taking   the  ladder  into  the 
house,  he  proceeded  to  investigate  the  walls 
and  roof.    At  the  point  where  his  mother's 
money  box  lay  hidden  he  noticed  that  the 
thateh  had  been  disturbed,  and  with  a  grin 
of  dehghted  expectation  he  put  the  ladder 
into  position,  and  running  up  it  was  soon  in 
possession  of  Rachel's  treasure.    He  shook 
the  box.  then  tried  to  get  his  finger  through 
the  opening,  and,  failing,  put  the  box  into 
lus  pocket,  and  scrambling  down  carried  the 
ladder  back  to  the  fowl-house,  and  returned 
himself  to  the  shade  of  the  jack-fruit  tree 
where,  with  the  aid  of  a  penknife,  the  lid  was 
b-9l 


Other  Tales 


soon  removed  from  the  box,  and  Son-son 
gazed  at  the  golden  coins  with  much  curiosity. 
That  they  were  money  he  knew,  but  of  their 
value,  or  where  they  might  be  changed,  he  was 
ignorant;  besides,  he  had  no  immediate  use 
for  them,  beyond  the  feeling  of  anger  against 
her  lover  their  loss  would  cause  his  mother. 
So,  digging  a  deep  hole  under  sheltei-  of  a 
low-growing  rose-bush,  and  nailing  back  the 
lid  of  the  box,  he  btiried  his  treasure  as  he 
knew  was  customary  with  the  Spanish  buc- 
caneers. Then  he  built  a  fire  of  brambles, 
cooked  his  fish  and  cocoa  thereon,  and,  having 
eaten  them,  stretched  himself  once  more  under 
his  favourite  tree  to  yawn  away  the  time 
till  his  mother's  return. 

Rachel  arrived  in  high  spirits,  having  sold 
her  provisions  to  such  good  advantage  that 
the  wedding  gown  had  been  purchased  with- 
out breaking  in  on  her  golden  store.  That 
evening  when  Methuselah  came  to  pay  his 
usual  visit,  she  displayed  to  his  admiring  eyes 
a  piece  of  white  silk  gaily  flowered,  explain- 

[280] 


Methuselah's  Courtship 

ing  that  the  ten  pounds  was  still  intact,  and 
would  now  serve  to  pay  for  an  addition  to  her 
house,  m  which  they  would  liveafter  marriage 
-t  bemg  already  a  good  deal  larger  than  her 
fiancds  bachelor  residence. 

"An-  I  been  finkin',  Methuselah,"  said 
she,  dat  de  bes '  t  'ing  to  do  wid  dat  money, 
meanw  ile,  is  to  put  it  in  de  bank.  Wat 
you  say  to  dat?  I  fink  I  will  jus'  get  it 
down  now  w'ile  you  is  here  to  hold  de  ladder 
for  me. " 

Glancing  at  the  two  children,  who  were 
sound  asleep  in  a  comer  of  the  room,  and 
^thout  waiting  for  Methuselah's  expression 
of  opimon,  she  went  out  to  get  the  ladder. 
As  before,  he  held  it    i„    p,ace  while  she 
mounted  and  searched  among  the  thatch,  her 
faee  expressing  more  and  more  bewilderment 
when  her  treasure  was  not  forthcoming.  When 
the  truth  dawned  upon  her,  she  slid  down 
the  ladder,  and  seized  the  little  shrunken 

What  followed    Methuselah   could   never 
(281] 


Other  Tales 


rightly  recall  until  he  found  himself  mounted 
on  his  mule,  and  riding  for  dear  life  out  of 
the  yard.  At  the  gate  something  whizzed 
past  his  head  and  startled  his  mule,  which 
broke  into  a  wild  gallop,  landing  Methuselah 
on  the  top  of  his  head  in  a  roadside  drain. 
.Here  he  lay  for  a  while  stunned  by  the  fall, 
■and  it  was  midnight  before  he  lifted  the  latch 
,  of  his  little  cottage  door,  and  threw  himself, 
all  battered  and  faint,  upon  his  bed.  The 
mule  had  found  his  way  home  sooner,  and 
was  quietly  cropping  the  short  grass  around 
the  hut,  without  one  qualm  of  conscience  to 
disturb  his  repast. 

Not  long  after  this  an  tmcle  of  Methuselah's 
died,  leaving  him  what,  in  the  eyes  of  his 
black  friends,  seemed  a  large  fortune,  and 
then  Rachel  began  to  repent  of  her  hasty 
judgment. 

"Even   if   him   did    teck    de    money    it 

would  n'  matter,  for  him  got  more  dan  dat 

now  himself,  an'  him  so  weak  I  could  have 

manage  him  all  right, "  she  reflected.    "  Fran- 

(282] 


Methuselah's  Courtship 

ccUa,  ••  said  she,  to  the  little  girl,  "get  de  hoe; 
I  goin  dig  up  dat  roses-bush;  it  grow  too  big 
an    goin' to  dead  anyway." 

Francella  obeyed,  and  Rachel  was  soon 
working  away  at  the  root  of  the  despised  rose- 
bush, turning  up  -eat  clods  of  earth  at  every 
blow    which  it  was  Francella's  delight   to 
break  open  in  the  hopes  of  finding  therein 
some   wriggling   insect.    Soon   she   gave   a 
scream  of  delight,  and  Rachel  turned,  to  see 
her  lost  money  box  in  the  little  girl's  hand. 
W  ere  you  fin'  dat?"  she  asked  sharply. 
In  the  hole  you  diggin'.  Ma.    It  soun' 
hke  money  in  it,  too,"  Francella  exclaimed 
excitedly,  jumping  up  and  down. 

Rachel  threw  down  her  hoe  and  with  a  pair 
of  scissors  she  had  about  her  person  took  off 
the  hd  of  the  box.  There  lay  her  ten  golden 
sovereigns,  bright  and  safe.  She  was  stupe- 
fied for  a  moment,  then  muttered,  "Poor 
Methuselah  didn't  t'ief  it  after  all.  Mus' 
had  been  duppy  do  dis  i  ing." 
That  afternoon  she  donned  her  Sunday 
[283I 


Other  Tales 


I  ' 


dress,  and  went  to  "meetin'."  Methuselah 
had  taken  more  violently  than  ever  to  religion 
since  his  unhappy  love  afTair,  and  had  become 
a  leader  in  the  revivalist  movement,  and  it 
was  to  the  little  meeting-house  where  he 
preached  that  she  now  went,  taking  both 
children  with  her.  As  she  reached  the  door 
it  was  thrown  violently  open,  and  a  wedding 
party  streamed  out.  At  its  head  walked 
Methuselah  vvith  Becky,  clad  in  bridal  array, 
leaning  on  his  arm,  and  Rachel  knew  she  had 
come  too  late.  As  the  couple  passed,  Son-son 
called  out: 

"Hi!  Becky,  you  mus'  be  forgot  dat  big 
tamarin'  tree  grow  at  him  door  mouth ,  an '  dem 
dat  got  de  spirit  is  tip-top  'pon  de  switch. " 

Becky  tossed  her  head,  and  the  company 
giggled,  but  Methuselah  turned  upon  the 
mother  and  son  a  look  of  burning  hate. 

"Scarlet   woman   of   Babylon,"    he   said 
aloud,  "sit  no  longer  by  the  wayside,  but  go 
home,  and  mete  out  to  the  young  viper,  thy 
son,  his  just  punishment." 
[284] 


"Busha"  Chicken 

DLACK  RACHEL  was  down  at  the  river 
*-f    washing    clothes.    She    had    no   pre- 
conceived  notions  of  economy,  and  the  fact 
that  her  soap  suds  floated  away  as  fast  as 
they    were    formed,    did    not    trouble  her 
generous    mind.    There    she  stood  in   the 
httle    silvery    stream,     her    skirts    tucked 
up   above   her    knees,    a    large    flat  stone 
for  a  washboard,  and   a   corn   cob  as   her 
nght-hand  assistant  in  the  battle  for  clean- 
liness. 

Her  two  ebony  chips.  Son-son  and  Fran- 
cella,  were  busy  catching  ticky-tickies  (min- 
nows) in  a  tin  can  with  a  wire  handle. 

"My  Fader!  Son-son,  look  'pon  dat  cray- 
fish over  dere-see!  jus'  onder  dat  rockstone! 
Him  big  as  any  barracoota!" 

"Ahey!  a  so  for  true,  Francey.  Gosh" 
[285] 


Other  Tales 


him  big  sah!  I  p""t'  try  to  ketch  him  wid 
one  grass  straw." 

Off  he  ran,  soon  returning  with  the  longest 
straw  to  be  found.  Making  a  noose  with  the 
pliable  end,  he  crept  slowly  into  the  stream 
until  so  near  his  victim  that  he  dared  not 
move  another  step,  then  softly  dipped  the 
loop  beneath  the  surface  of  the  water  and 
pushed  it  cautiously  under  the  unsuspecting 
crustacean's  tail.  A  sudden  jer^  threw  his 
captive  to  the  bank,  landing  it  almost  on 
top  of  Francella,  who,  with  a  yell,  flew  for 
her  life. 

"Francella — you  is  de  foolishes'  gal  I 
ebber  see  from  I  born!  Wha'  you  t'ink  de 
crayfish  would  do  you?" 

"Lard!  Son-son,  teck  care  him  run  him 
mout'  inna  you!" 

"Chow!  watch  me  grab  him!"  returned  her 
brother  scornfully. 

"Hi,  Lard!  Lard!  but  I  nebber  did  know 
say  dem  somet'ing  was  dat  venomous!"  he 
cried  dropping  it  in  hot  haste,  for  in  his  anx- 
[2861 


"  Busha  ••  Chick. 


lety  to  show  his  superior  s'  j:  io  '^n-nt  ella 
he  had  managed  to  run  the  iou£    av.-Hke 
protuberance  of  the  crawfish  into  his  hand 
where  it  snapped  off.  ' 

"What  is  de  matter  wid  you,  buoy?"  called 
h.s  mother  as  she  stepped  out  of  the  water 
to  spread  her  clothes  on  the  penguin  fence 
close  by. 

"Crayfish  jam  him  mouf  in  me  han'  an 
It  bruck  off  in  dere." 

"Meek  me  see,"  said  Rachel,  taking  his 
hand  from  which  the  blood  trickled  slowly 
Bery  well!  you  nebber  will  lissen  w'en  you 
fader  tell  you  say  is  'Softly-softly  ketch 
monkey  quickes'.'  an'  now  you  goin'  dead 
of  lockjaw!" 

She  delivered  the  sentence  as  though 
somethmg  she  had  long  looked  for  had 
happened,  and  she  did  not  regret  it  in 
the  least.  A  duet  of  wails  broke  from  the 
children. 

"Stop  you  bawlin-  an'  go  'long  to  see  if 
Docta'  in  de  bilin'  house  an'  get  him  to  teck 

(287I 


Other  Tales 


it  out  for  you.  Run!  meek  haste — for 
if  it  get  mix  wid  you'  blood,  you  done 
for!" 

Off  they  started,  Francella's  little  plaits 
of  crimpy  hair  standing  out  stiffer  than  ever 
from  her  head,  while  her  anxious  brown  eyes 
kept  a  steady  watch  on  her  brother's  face 
— Son-son  feeling  anxious  as  to  "Doctor's" 
method  of  removal,  but,  from  more  mature 
experience,  putting  less  faith  in  his  mother's 
prophetic  gift. 

After  they  had  walked  awhile  in  silence, 
Francella  said  timidly : 

"Son-son?" 

"Eyeh?" 

"Is  you'  jaw  gettin'  stiff  yet?" 

"Yes." 

"Which  part  Son-son?' 

"Jus'  dong  at  de  tongue  root." 

"Massey!  you  t'ink  you  goin'  dead?" 

"Yes — dis   bery   minute." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  young 
son  of  Ham  fell  over  on  his  back,  his  teeth 
[288] 


'«t  and  grinning,  his  eyes  rolling  wildly,  and 

a  gurghngm  his  throat. 

Francella  stood  by  wringing  her  hands,  the 
great  tears  rolling  down  her  little  black  face' 
^nd  between  .obs  calling  to  her  dearly  loved 
bother  not  to  die.  But  he  appeared  not  to 
hear  or  heed,  and  after  a  struggle  or  two,  lay 
quite  still.  •' 

This  was  too  much  for  Francella,   who 
thinking  her  brother  dead,  took  to  her  heels 

shout^g  ,heran.  "Help,  ohlhelpjoh.r- 
i^ear  had  dnven  love  from  out  her  little  Afri- 
can heart. 

"Stop,  you  little  fool  you!  Ma  will 
soon  hear  you  an'  den  you  know  dat 
tamann     switch    goin'   to   play    -pon    we 

"Is  you  betta,  Son-son.v  p^ancella  asked, 
much  relieved  at  the  sudden  change. 

Chow!  it  was  fun  me  was  meckin',  gal 
me  did  n't  hab  no  lockiaw.  me  jus'  fonn  sick 
to  fnghten  you.    Come,  meek  we  set  one 

spnnge  an' try  ketch  one  bud  for  we  dinner 

[289I 


Other  Tales 


Peadove  well  sweet  w'en  dem  roas',  you 
know!" 

The  art  of  springe  making  and  setting  was 
something  in  which  much  practice  had  made 
these  two  perfect,  so  a  young  shoot  was  soon 
cut  from  a  tree,  and  pieces  of  string  fished  out 
of  Son-son's  pocket  full  of  miscellanies  and 
tied  to  one  end  of  the  sapling.  They  drove 
tha  other  end  firmly  into  the  ground,  then 
bent  it  bow-shaped  until  the  string,  formed 
into  a  noose,  rested  on  the  grass,  where  a 
forked  stick  kept  it  in  position.  A  few  bullet 
tree  berries  laid  within  the  noose,  completed 
the  merciless  trap. 

Then  the  little  niggers  retired  behind  the 
big  bullet  tree  and  waited  for  their  victim. 
Nor  had  they  long  to  wait. 

"Francella,  you  see  him?"  whispered  Son- 
son  hoarsely. 

"Yes,  yes!  I  see  him,  but  w'at  it.  Son- 
son;  dat  too  big  for  peadove?" 

"Stop  little,"  said  her  brother  as  he  crept 
out  a  bit  to  get  a  better  view  Oi  the  bird. 
[290] 


Then  as  he  slowly  drew  himself  back  again 
'No-:s    not     peadove,    is    partridge-see 
now  him  red?" 

"But  me  did  hear  pa  say  dat  mongoose 
nyam  [eat]  off  all  de  partridge  an'  none  don't 
lef  ?" 

"Me  cam  be  help  for  dat,  me  know  say 
dat  bud  :s  partridge.  Ahey!  got  him!"  he 
shouted  as  the  springe  flew  up.  carrying  with 
It  the  unwary  bird. 

Both  children  rushed  up  in  time  to  see 
their  victim  fall  to  the  ground  again,  where 
It  remamed  motionless,  the  weight  of  its 
body  keeping  the  sapling  bent.  Seeing  it 
was  dead,  they  quickly  took  the  noose  from 
round  Its  broken  neck,  then  consternation 
seized  the  pair. 

"Francella!  is  one  of  Busha   [overseer's] 
chicken!" 

Francella   began  to  cry. 

"Son-son,  I  tell  you  say  dat  bud  wasn't 
partridge.  I  tell  you  say  mongoose  nyam  of! 
all  de  partridge  an'  you  would  n'  believe  me. 
[291] 


Other  Tales 


an'  now  Busha  goin'  to  beat  we  w'en  him 
fin' out." 

"Doan  fret  for  dat!  Busha  will  neber 
know  dat  it  not  mongoose  eat  him  chicken. 
It  nice  an'  fat,  Francey,  an'  goin'  to 
meek  jou  lick  you'  mout'  w'en  it  stew. 
But  min'  now  an'  hoi'  you  tongue — you 
hear?" 

"I  will  shet  me  nout',  but  I  'fraid  for 
Busha,  him  so  love  to  beat  pick'ney  [children]. 
Son-son  hide  it  onder  dat  tumble  dong  tree 
dere,  an'  w'en  we  comin'  back  we  will  get 
it  agen." 

"Eh!  eh!  de  gal  'tupid  sah!  you  forget  I 
jis'  done  call  mongoose  name  eno?  I  'se  jus' 
goin'  to  put  dis  here  red  fowl  in  de  top  of 
me  hat  an'  not  a  soul  will  eber  know  say  I 
got  chicken  'pon  me  head."  He  drew  off  his 
cone-shaped  felt  hat  and  doubling  up  the  still 
limp  chicken  in  it,  replaced  it  on  his  head, 
and  revolving  on  one  foot  before  his  sister, 
said  triumphantly: 

"Dere!  you  see  any  of  it,  Francey?" 
[292I 


_    "No-but  you-  hat  look  bery   tall,   an'  if 
It  was  to  drop  off " 

"Oh,  chow!  come  on  an'  lef  me  to  look 
after  dat." 

The    excitement    over,    Son-son    remem- 
bered his  sore  hand,  and  they  walked  very 
fast    until    they    reached    the    trash    yard 
of  the    sugar  estate  where   "Doctor"  was 
bookkeeper.     A    mixed    gang    were    lazily 
rakmg  up  the  cane  trash  into  heaps,  pre- 
paratory to    storing    it   away  under  cover, 
to  be  used  as  fuel  later  on.     As  the  children 
came  m  sight,   a  young  lad   called  out  to 
them: 

"Hi!  Cousin,  w'at  you  come  for?" 

"Come   for   beg   Docta    teck    somefing 
outof  mehan'." 

"Wha*  it— logwood  prickle?" 

"Nebber— crayfish  mout'." 

"Lard,  buoy!  him  goin'  cut  to  de  bone  for 

dat!    Show  me  de  han'  eno."    Then  as  he 

^xamined  it,     "It   gone   dong   fur  enough. 

Mus   hab  been  a  able  crayfish  for  do  dat- 

(293] 


Other  Tales 


it  poin'  hurt  you  for  teck  out,  sonny,  better 
meek  I  come  wid  you. " 

"All  right,  come  on  if  you  like." 

Looking  round  to  see  if  the  gang  driver  was 
out  of  sight  and  finding  he  was,  Reuben 
dropped  his  rake  and  went  with  the  children  to 
the  door  of  the  boiling  house.  Here  Son-son 
stopped. 

"Come  on!  wha'  you  stoppin'  for?"  asked 
Reuben,  all  haste  to  see  the  sport. 

"Chow,  man!  I  'fraid  Doeta'  goin'  use 
him  long  knife  'pon  me!" 

"But  dere  's  a  buoy  coward!  Den  you 
goin'  Stan'  here  an'  meek  de  crayfish  p'isin 
get  inna  you  blood?  You  mus'  be  want 
to  dead!" 

"  Nebber — me  will  go,  but  Francey  teck  me 
hat  so  hoi'  it  tight,  you  hear?  I  might  lost 
it  de  way  I  goin'  jump  w'en  de  cole  steel 
touch  me. " 

With  both  hands  he  carefully  took  his  hat 
off  his  head,  and  bringing  the  two  brims  close 
together  to  hide  the  chicken,  he  handed  it  to 
b94l 


h>ss>stcr.     PoorlittleFrancey-ifshchadbeen 
g'vcn  a  dynamite  bomb  to  embrace,  she  could 
not  have  looked  more  scared.    She  took  the 
precous  hat  very  cautiously,  and  Reuben 
seemg  something  was  up,  asked: 
I'W'at  you  got  in  dere,  Francella?" 

Peadove,"   was   the   prompt   reply. 

How  you  ketch  him.P"  he  went  on. 

Spnnge,"  said  the  little  girl  shortly. 
Meek    me   see   him?" 

w'l'f  °'.r^°"  "^^  '^'^''^'^y  "^^^'^  vvant 
w  at  nodder  somebody  got,  an'  if  I  show  you 

d^sbud,Iwilltemp'you,dendeDebbilgoin' 
get   me  w'en   I   dead." 

"De  gal  convince!"  sai '  Reuben,  and 
mounted  the  rickety  stairs  without  any  more 
questions. 

They  found  "Doeta'  "  in  a  narrow  passage 
aIongs.de  the  liquor  vats,  and  Reuben  lost 
no  time  in  telling  him  Son-son's  errand. 
Let  me  see  your  hand,  Son-son." 
Yes,  sah,"  said  the  lad,  and  opened  his 
palm  for  mspection. 

[295J 


Other  Tales 


"Yes— it's  gone  down  deep,  and  I  shell 
have  to  cut  to  get  it  out." 

"Oh,  Lard!  no,  sah!  me  will  meek  it  stop 
so  till  to-morrow,  Docta'!" 

"Oh,  no!  you  'd  better  have  it  out  now  or 
it  may  fester  in  there." 

"Chow!  Son-son,  you  don'  hab  as  much 
heart  as  a  cockroach !   Doctor,  you  want  me 
to  hoi'  de  buoy  for  :  -n,  sah?    Ehey,  sah?" 
"Yes— hold  him." 

Son-son  waited  for  nothing  more,  but 
turned  and  ran  down  the  passage  at  the  top 
of  his  speed,  Reuben  in  hot  pursuit.  The 
race  was  not  a  fair  one,  and  very  soon  the 
small  boy  was  writhing  in  the  strong  grip  of 
his  big  friend,  who  carried  him  bodily  up  to 
where  "Doctor"  stood  smiling— he  under- 
stood the  negro  nature  thoroughly. 

"Now,  Reuben,"  he  said,  "you  hold  out 
his  arm  so— and  don't  let  him  move.  Fran- 
cella,  give  me  that  knife  on  the  window  sill 
ther-j.  Now,  Son-son,  if  you  don't  open  your 
hand  this  minute,  I  will  cut  your  fingers  off!" 
[296] 


"Busha"  Chicken 


Son-son  opened  his  hand,  shut  his  eyes 
tight,  and  long  before  the  knife  touched  him 
was  yelling  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  while 
Keuben,  grinning  with  delight,  held  him  as 
in  a  vise. 

"There!  stop  your  bawling,  the  thing  is 
out  and  hardly  a  drop  of  blood  spilt.  Shame 
of  yourself!  why  Francella  would  n't  cry  to 
have  her  hand  cut,  would  you,  Francey?" 

"No,  sah!"  said  the  little  girl,  putting  her 
finger  m  her  mouth  and  wriggUng  herself 
like  a  fat  snake. 

"Come,  then,  let  me  see  if  you  haven't 
somethmg  that  wants  cutting  out." 

Francella  only  grinned  and  put  both  her 
hands  behind  her  back,  chicken  and  hat 
included. 

"Reuben,  catch  that  giri,  and  bring  her  to 
me,  "Doctor"  called,  and  Reuben,  nothing 
loath,  made  a  dive  at  Francella.  who,  in 
trymg  to  dodge  him,  tumbled  backwards  into 
a  vat  of  half  cured  liquor. 
Immediately  the  crowd  that  had  peeped 
1=97] 


Other  Tales 


at  Son-son's  agony  through  doors,  windows, 
and  cracks  in  the  partition  wall,  were  on  the 
spot,  exclaiming,  directing  and  getting  in  the 
way  generally,  while  "Doctor,"  the  only  one 
capable  of  useful  action,  was  trying  to  fish 
the  poor  little  thing  out  of  her  slimy  bath. 
At  last  he  got  a  good  hold  on  her  frock  and 
dragged  her  to  the  edge,  where  a  dozen 
swarthy  hands  were  ready  to  help  take  her 
out,  and  lay  her  down,  for  the  child  was 
suffocating  and  only  half  conscious. 

"Get  out  of  the  way  there,  you  black 
devils!"  cried  the  bookkeeper  as  he  dropped 
on  his  knees  beside  Francella,  and  with  his 
handkerchief  wiped  from  her  nose,  mouth, 
and  eyes,  the  thick  scum  that  covered  them. 
He  tore  open  the  throat  of  her  poor  cotton 
frock  and  putting  his  hand  over  her  heart, 
satisfied  himself  that  she  was  not  in  much 
danger,  in  fact  more  frightened  than  hurt. 
"Docta,'  de  pick'ney  [child]  dead,  sah?" 
asked  an  ol  1  woman,  anxiously. 
"No." 

[298] 


"But,    Docta!" 
"Well?" 

"  Vou  don -t  fink  say  him  blood  goin'  to 
congeal  so  meek  manification  set  in    sal.  >° 
Go      bout    your    business     and     don't 
bother  mc  with  journonsense.  " 

"Me    no    talkin'    nonsense!    you    bockra 
[white  people)  nebber  fink  sav  n         T 
anvt',-n„  t,  /    .  '  '"'^  ^aj  "'-■ager  know 

anyting  but  w-endepickncy  dead  you  will 

be  sorry  you  wouldn't  lissen  to  Wat  a- ole 
Oman  got  to  say  'pon  dcse  f  ings  " 

Franee„a  suddenly  sat  up.  which  stopped 
he  old  woman's  ehatter  and  startled  the 
owd  around  her.     She  rubbed  her  eyes  and 
gazed  ah.ut',-Hldly.  then  asked: 


'Whe 


,>ve? 


Son-son   had   forgotten    the   chieken.    so 
taken  up  was  he  with   his  sister's   unhappy 

he  had  been  shot  and  peered  into  the  vat 

Reuben  had  heard  the  question,  too,  and 
an   or  one  of  the  big  ladles  used  in  cooling 
the  hquor.     Now  was  his  chance  of  seeing 
[299] 


Other  Tales 


that  mysterious  peadove,  and  he  meant  to 
use  it.  Returning  he  went  over  to  "  Doctor, " 
and  said : 

"Sah!  dem  want  you  at  de  centrifigle, 
sah!" 

Doctor  had  hardly  disappeared  through 
the  door  when  the  wily  Reuben  dipped  his 
ladle  into  the  vat  and  scraped  all  around 
most  carefully. 

"Wat  you  t'ink  you  lookin'  for,  Reuben?" 
asked  Son-son  angrily. 

"Dat  's  w'at  I  doan  know  meself!"  he  re- 
plied with  a  wicked  grin,  as  the  ladle  scooped 
harder  than  ever.  "You  sure  is  peadove  did 
into  dat  hat?" 

"Yes,  I  sure,  sure!" 

"Sartin?" 

"Sartin  as  I  Uvin'!" 

"Den  look  out,  for  I  got  him  now,"  and 
the  ladle  came  slowly  up  one  side  of  the  vat. 
As  soon  as  it  appeared  at  the  top,  Son-son 
stooped  to  grasp  it,  but  Reuben  quickly 
pulled  it  toward  himself  and  seizing  the  un- 
[300J 


fortunate  chicken  by  its  legs,  heldit  high  in 

•'Give  it  to  me.  Reuben,  give  it  to  me,  I 
tell  you! 

han^  ^'""^l  ""^  '^'"^-  ''"'^'"S  >'  i"  both 
hands  he  made  a  careful  examination  of  his 
pnze. 

"Wei,.-  he  said  at  las,  "dis  is  de  firs' 
toe  smce  I  see  peadove  wid  comb  'pon  dem 
head,_an    b:g  so!    Son-son,  you  is  a  Hard- 

1  teU  Docta  'pon  you." 

Reuben  laughed.  "Tell  him  den-  Is 
dontmebruckdefowlneck,  sow'atme 
care?  1 1  mk  I  will  jus '  go  ask  Docta  if  him 
ebber  see  dis  here  breed  of  peadove  before- 
hrm^^know  all    'bout   insec'    an'  such  like 

'■You  would  n- fit!  you  would  n- fit  go  show 
dattmg  to  Docta."  Son-son  declared  em- 
pnatirally. 

"Francella,"  said  Reuben,  going  over  to 
the  httle  girl.  "Francella,  is  dis  for  you?" 
[301] 


Othcx  Tales 


"No,"  said  FranceUa  hesitatingly,   "doan 
for  me. " 

"Now,  Son-son,  you  hear  Francella  say 
dis  is  not  for  her  bud,  so  you  better  teck  de 
ladle  an'  look  agen,  perhaps  you  will  fin' 
de  peadove  after  all !  De  chicken  I  fine  doan 
get  owner,  so  I  got  a  right  to  keep  it  for  me- 
self!  Good-by,  me  buoy;  I  t'ank  de  Lord 
dat  me  ma  nebber  teach  me  for  set  trap  an' 
ketch  t 'lugs'  dat  doan  belong  to  meself!" 

With  which  pious  thanksgiving,  he  vanished 
down  the  steps  and  left  Son-son  staring  after 
him,  stupefied.  On  recovering  he  turned  to 
his  sister,  and  ia  tones  of  the  deepest  conviction 
said: 

"Francella,  I  did  tell  you  already  dat  you 
is  de  foolishes'  gal  I  ebber  see  since  I  bam- 
but  Lard,  I  did  n't  know  it  was  so  truth  till 
now!" 

Poor  little  nigger!  she  had  done  her  best 
and  this  was  her  reward— at  least,  some  of 
it,  for  her  mother  and  the  tamarind  switch 
did  their  part  when  she  got  home. 
[302] 


How  Puss  Come  to  Ketch 
Rat 

(An  Anancy  Story) 

QNE  day  Puss  an'  Rat  harness  dem  horse 
out  w.'!''"'^''^"''*"^''^^yt°  drive 
oat  W  en  dem  go  little  way,  dem  come  to 
one  house  an'  Rat  tell  Puss  say  him  mus' 

wa.thttle  for  him  because  him  want  to  gol 
de  house,  but  him  will  soon  come  out  again. 
So  Rat  get  out  of  de  buggy  an- go  in  de  house 
an-todeldtchenan-derehimseeonep 
-d  nee  bum  at  de  bottom  an- him  get  iL 
da  pot  an-  begin  to  scrape,  scrape  until  d 
pot  turn  over  on  him  an'  cover  him  up,  den 

'/"^,^^"*°-«S -'Puss  outside  heJrde 

singm    an   go  into  de  house  to  look  for  Rat 

Puss  hear  de  scrape,  scrape  onder  de  pot  an' 

I303I 


Other  Tales 


as  him  lif '  it  up  an'  see  Rat  ondemeat'  him 
know  dat  Rat  did  deceive  him  an'  him  ketch 
Rat  an'  pop  him  neck,  an'  from  dat  time 
Puss  always  ketch  Rat. 


i    t- 


1304! 


Anancy  and  Tiger 

(HowTiger  Come  to  Live  in  deBush) 

IN  de  long  before  time,  Anancy  an'  Tieer 

*     was  both  coiirtin'  a^ 
an    dem  was  very  jealous  of  each  odder  so 
one  day  Anancy  hin,  go  to  de  young  tdy 
house  an-  him  say.  "You  know  Bra'  Tiger 

-not'mg  else  dan  me  fader  oleridin'horse '• 
De  young  lady  was  vex'  an'  say  she  doan 

ittTou'::^'  ^  ^--  --  -^  ^  P-e 

..  °'  r '  *™^  '^'e^^  «-"« to  see  her  she  say. 

Go    way  wid  you,  you  is  a  shurance  [im- 

Pertmentl   man   to    come   courtin'   boclcTa 

wuejadywenyouknowyouisnofing 
dut  a  ole  ndm'  horse." 

yord?''"'"'°"'"^'     "Iknowwhotell 

you  dat,  .snot  a  soul  'ceptin'dat  Hard  An- 

[305J 


Other  Tales 


ancy  an'  I  will  jus'  go  to  him  house  now  an' 
meek  him  come  an'  tell  you  himself  dat  it  is 
alie." 

An'  Tiger  go  straight  to  Anancy  house  but 
Anancy  see  him  comin'  t'roo  de  winda  an' 
Anancy  know  well  w'at  bring  Tiger  to  him 
house  dis  time  of  day  so  Anancy  meek  haste 
an'  get  into  de  bed  an'  tie  up  him  head  wid 
handkerchief,  an'  as  Bra'  Tiger  bounce  into 
de  room,  Anancy  put  him  han'  to  him  head 
an 'say  : 

"Oh!  do  me  good  Tiger,  doan  meek  noise 
for  I  sick  unto  deat'." 

Bra'  Tiger  say,  "Sick  or  not  sick,  Bra' 
Anancy,  you  have  to  come  wid  me  now  an' 
tell  Miss  Rose  dat  you  is  a  Hard  w'en  you 
call  me  you'  fader  ole  ridin'  horse." 

"Oh!  Bra',  how  me  to  come  w'en  me  doan 
able  to  walk?" 

"You  has  to  come,  Anancy,  even  if  I  has 
to  carry  you,  you  mus'  come." 

"Well,  Bra',  if  you  will  carry  me  I  will  try 
an'  come  but  I  very  sick."  An'  Anancy 
(306] 


Anancy  and  Tiger 

an    tell  Anancy  to  gefpon  him  back,  an- 

h^mcLdn- able  to  hold  on  an- tumble  do  J 
pon  de  bed  again.     Den  Tiger  say,  "Well 
Anancy.  I  see  dat  you  is  well  sic/in  trut^ 

but  you  „,U3'  come  wid  me  all  de  same." 
Den  Anancy  say.   "Well.  Bra',  if  you  will 

walk  ponyou-four  foot  perhaps  I  coid  ho. 
on  better.  an>  I  has  a  little  saddle  here   if 

you  -eck  I  put  de  saddle  -pon  you' b^k 
perhaps  I  could  manage  to  hold  on" 
T,ger  say,     "Very  well.  Anancy."  an'  him 

go  do^  .pon  him  four  foot  an"Iow  Anancy 
toput  de  saddle 'pon  Hm  back,  an'demstarl 
off  aga.n  but  dem  jus'  gone  one  step  an' 
Anancy  tumble  off  Bra'  Tiger  back  an'  say 
^-  c^  hold  on  widouten  bridle  to  help 

pon  h.m  head  an'  bit  into  him  mout'  an' 
dem  start  off  again,  but  dem  doan  gone  far 
w  en  Anancy  begin  to  holler  say  "'oh' 
Bra    Tiger.  I  beg  you  doan  go  so  fas' else  I 


Other  Tales 


will  dead.    Do  me  good,  Bra",  give  me  one 
little  spur  so  I  can  jus'  touch  you  w'en  you 
goin'  too  fas'."     An'  Tiger  give  Anancy  de 
spur  an'  dem  go  long  little  farder  till  jus'  as 
dem  come  to  de  town  w'ere  Miss  Rose  live, 
Anancy  say,    "  Do  r  o  good,  Tiger,  give  me  a 
whip  so  I  can  brush  de  fly  from  off  you  for 
you'  ears  is  full  of  dem,"  an'  Tiger  pick  a 
switch  an'  give  Anancy  an'  dem  go  on  till 
dem  ketch  to  de  town  w'ere  Miss  Rose  live 
an'  jus'  as  dem  come  to  Miss  Rose  house, 
Anancy    lay    de    whip     'pon    Tiger    back 
an'  dig  dt  spur  into  him  side  till  Tiger  'blige 
to  gallop  an'  as  dem  ketch  to  Miss  Rose 
house  door,  Anancy  jump  off  an'  dere  was 
Miss  Rose  standin'  to  see  dem  come,  an' 
Anancy  meek  a  mashin'  bow  to  de  lady  an' 
says  to  her,     "Wat  I  tell  you?    You  see 
now  dat  Tiger  is  me  fader  old  ridin'  horse!" 
Tiger  v^as  dat  shame  him  teck  to  de  bush 
an'  dere  him  live  ever  since,  but    Anancy 
married  Miss  Rose  an'  live  in  a  house. 


[308] 


Anancy  and  Dog 

QNEdayAnancygotoa'oIeladyhouse 
an  'I'mseeonegoatskindatdeolelaHv 

^terT  T""  *°  "'"'''  ^  tambourine  an' 

after  mm  meek  de  tambourine,  him  i„vi"e 

aS,';°:"''°^°^"'P'^3'de  tambourine 
a  baU  him  was  goin'  to  rive      n„„  a 

iotodeoleladyhouseariuherl^T 

an'  de    ,  ™  T^  ^  '-^-«  -d  de  olelady 

come  to  de  hnll  o^  •  u  ■  "^ 

TO  ae  DaU  an   bnng  one  Constable  wid 
dem  to  teck  de  t  'ief. 

torb"n'f'''"'"'''^°'^«-*'™come 

to  de  ball.  Anancy  teck  up  detune  an' com 

-encetoplayan'himtelldeoleladytork 

-    --^^t -not  her  goatskin  w'atn!::' 
(309J 


Other  Tales 


de  tambourine,  an'  him  play  say,  "Moder 
an'  Fader  los'  dem  velvety  goatskin  an'  dis 
is  it  de  Bohimbo  got  here."  Den  de  ole 
lady  go  up  an'  look  'pon  de  tambourine  an' 
she  see  dat  it  was  her  goatskin  an'  she  teck 
up  [arrested]  Bohimbo. 

Den  Bohimbo  say  Dawg  employ  him  to 
play  de  tambourine,  an'  Dawg  say  it  was 
Anancy  dat  give  him  de  tambourine  to  play 
an'  Anancy  deny  de  charge  but  dem  go  to 
court  an'  Anancy  declare  him  never  give  no 
tambourine  to  Dawg,  so  dem  fine  Dawg  an' 
Bohimbo  an'  prison  dem  an'  Anancy  go  free. 


[310] 


Anancy  and  His  Family 

pVERY  day  Anancy  say  idm  goin'  look 

loot  ^^u'°  ^'  "^  ^''^^  *™«  him  go  to 
l<^kyamh.n,getoleyam.an-Wenhin,Le 
home  w,d  d.s  ole  yam,  him  wife  an '  pick'ney 

[ch.M«„  did  n't  know  de  name  of  L  yam 

ruti:TnT'A'^^^^'^'^^^-''-«^- 

put  It  into  de  bip  diQii  o«  >  „u  j 

«^--i  .,-       .,  "    ®'*  '^o'^  over  it 

wid  him  wife  an 'pick'ney 

Now  Anancy  wanted  was  to  eat  it  all  him- 
^If.  so  him  give  out  order  say.  "Who  know 
de  name  can  eat,  who  doan  know  de  name 
-s„et,.,„.^,„^,^^^^^^^^^n^^^^^ 

ceptm    Anancy  one.  him  eat  off  de  whole 

hkedat'?  ""•  «™ -"^^-ally  done 
^ke  dat;  every  time  him  come  wid  de  yam 
h>m  eat  all  of  it  himself  so  Tacooma  sayt 
hmimoder  one  day  dat  him  will  have  to  fin° 

out  we  re  him  fader  gettin'dese  yam  from, 
fsiij 


Other  Tales 


111 


So  de  marnin'  w'en  him  fader  was  goin*  of! 
before  day,  Tacooma  get  up  de  same  time 
an'  t'row  some  ashes  into  him  basket  an'  cut 
one  little  hole  in  de  basket  bottom. 

All  de  time  Anancy  goin'  alon-^,  de  ashes 
drop  right  along  an*  Tacooma  fciiow  de  track 
of  de  ashes  till  him  ketch  to  one  big  flat  rock; 
as  him  ketch  to  de  flat  rock  him  say,  "No 
need  go  any  fu-dcr."  Now  Anancy  comin' 
home  has  to  wn  ik  'pon  dis  flat  rock  so  Tacooma 
turn  Dae!:  .ome  an"  get  a  basket  of  ockro  an' 
him  ctriy  it  to  de  flat  rock  an'  mash  up  de 
ockro  on  de  flat  rock  to  make  it  slippery,  den 
him  go  to  one  side  an'  hide  in  de  bush  till 
liim  see  Anancy  comin'  wid  do  basket  on  him 
head. 

Anancy  come  direc*  on  to  de  rock  an'  as 
him  ketch  on  it  him  tumble  down  an'  every 
bit  of  de  yam  mash  up.  As  Anancy  go  to 
pick  up  de  yam  dem,  him  say  "Lard!  poor 
me  Anancy;  all  me  ole  yam  maah  up!" 

As  Tacooma  hear  dat,  him  run  out  an'  teck 
a  short  cut  home,  an'  w'en  him  ketch  to  de 
(3"I 


Anancy  and  His  Family 

hou-.  hi- te„  hin,  n,odcr  say  de  yam  „a„,e 
ole  yam  .  so  dat  night  w-.  Anancy  get 
home  wid  de  yam  an'  after  dem  boil  an'  dem 
was  Mttm' down  to  eat.  Anancy  say 

know  de  name  can't  eat."    Den  everybody 
holler  out  for  "ole  yam." 

Anancy  get  vc.y  vex'  an'  quarrel  say  Tac- 
cooma  play  him  a  trick,  so  him  give  up  diggin ' 
an' teck  to  growin' duckanoe. 


f- 


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